Are You Paying Attention?
by weirdmixofsodapopanddallas
Summary: When an angel statue won't stay still and people are disappearing without a trace, Dean definitely thinks it's a cause for suspicion. And apparently so does this "doctor".
1. What Was With the Damn Statue?

_Author's note: Hey, everybody!_

_So, I was on Pinterest awhile back, and I saw this thing about a Supernatural/Doctor Who crossover. Somebody in the comments said they wanted it written, and I offered to do so, so here it is._

_Now, I'm not nearly as comfortable writing Doctor Who than I am writing Supernatural, so this'll probably have plenty of mistakes, and I'm asking you guys to please forgive them. I'm giving it ago, and really, what else can you ask for? Constructive criticism is, of course, perfectly welcome. I'm always looking for ways to get better._

_That's about it, so please enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and Doctor Who are not mine, they belong to their respective owners. Also, i'm not trying to insult stage crew kids with a comment in this chapter, but we all know Dean wouldn't have the highest opinion of them.**

**_Chapter 1: What Was With the Damn Statue?_**

**DEAN'S POV**

This was the worst place we'd been yet. I could handle cities. I could handle small towns. Hell, I could handle places that were basically the middle of nowhere. But this stupid, average-sized town in the middle of Alabama was gonna be the death of me. And they had the balls to call it a city. I'd like to dump half of these kids - the really sheltered ones - into a real city. Maybe downtown Chicago. See what happens.

Then there was this teacher.

His name was Jack Bartholomew. I'd never heard a more ridiculous name in my life, but I had to admit it fit him. He wore suits all the time, couldn't seem to decide whether or not he needed glasses, and constantly had hair that looked like he'd just gotten done banging a secretary in the supply closet. Maybe he had. It would definitely earn him some points with me.

He taught us Earth Science, but we didn't actually talk about the Earth all that much. He rushed through everything closer than the moon, and now he was being so in depth with the space unit I thought I might just die. I mean, I like Star Wars as much as the next person, but this was getting ridiculous. We were two weeks into the school year. According to all the kids who had a different Earth Science teacher, they were still on the water cycle. Space wasn't supposed to come until March.

"Dean, are you paying attention?"

The question caught me off guard, but there was no way I was gonna let the freak with the sex hair know that. So I just smirked and said, "Not really, sir."

For a second, I thought he might literally smack me, but then he just gave me a knowing look and went back to teaching. Well. That was new.

I went back to my notebook, writing down everything I knew about the weird things going down in the school, trying to make sense out of it. Honestly, my money was on a ghost. Weird ghost, though. It seemed to have a thing for moving the school statue around - an angel, like their mascot - and making kids disappear. Nobody knew where they were going, or if they'd even disappeared on school grounds, but the fact remained that they were gone and the statue was never in the place it'd last been seen.

This was the first case my dad had really let me handle by myself. He was busy with something else around town, heaven knew what, and he thought whatever was going on around the school was small enough that I could handle it myself. I wasn't sure whether I felt flattered or insulted, so I tried not to think about it too much.

An elbow nudged me in the ribs and I looked up, annoyed. The kid next to me was leaning backwards, reading my notebook. "What's that all about?" he asked.

I flipped it shut and shoved it back in my backpack. "Nothing."

"Dude, there's no way that was nothing."

"Just something my dad wants me to work on, that's all."

"So you admit it was something."

Before we had a chance to say anything else, the bell rang. I jumped up and hurried out. There was no way I was staying in that classroom with that weirdass teacher and that annoying kid any longer than I had to.

XxXxX

"Are you sure you have to go?" Sam asked from the bed where he was watching TV.

"Yeah, Sammy. For the millionth time, I'm sure." I finished loading a gun and stuck it in the back of my waistband.

"But you never go hunting without Dad. Won't it be dangerous?"

"Every hunt's dangerous."

"Won't he be angry?"

"This was his idea. Don't worry about it, dude, I got it under control."

"What're you hunting again?"

"I'm pretty sure it's a ghost, now would you quit worrying?" I glanced around, making sure I had all the weapons I'd decided might be needed. "Now, you know the drill. Don't leave the motel. Don't let anyone in unless it's me or Dad. Don't screw up the salt lines. Shoot first, ask questions later. Got it?"

"Yeah, Dean, I got it." Sam turned back to his TV show. I wasn't even sure what it was. It just looked weird.

I nodded and headed out the door. I didn't want to go back to school, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

It took me about fifteen minutes to get there on foot.

The whole building was dark and silent as I jimmied the lock on the gym doors and snuck in. If there was a ghost in there, it sure wasn't very active right now.

As I snuck down the hallway, gun in hand, looking in classrooms as I passed, I thought I heard a noise behind me. I turned around quickly.

The school's angel statue was about five feet behind me. Whatever this thing was, it was here. Now I could figure out if it really was a ghost or something else. It didn't make much sense to spend all that time researching who'd bit the big one on campus and what motive they might have and where they were buried if I wasn't sure about what was doing this. It really could be any number of things.

And besides, it's not like I'm about to do all that unnecessary work.

Nothing else moved. Nothing made a sound. Had it been hoping to sneak up behind me then left when I caught it? Should I keep looking? Would it make another attempt later? And what was with the damn statue?

Something told me I shouldn't turn my back on it, so I carefully backed down the hallway till I reached the corner, then turned and ran. I was putting as much space between me and that creepyass statue as possible.

When I finally slowed down, I was in the hallway over by the auditorium. I glanced around cautiously, then opened the closest door and slipped in. Might as well look in there.

Stairs. That's what was behind the door. Stairs I could barely see, since it was so dark in there. They could've gone anywhere. So, of course, I did what any sensible person would do in that situation.

I turned on my flashlight, and up the stairs I went.

Once I got to the top, I felt the wall next to me and found a light switch. Unfortunately, it wasn't your usual kind of lightswitch. Instead of all the normal lights turning on, the whole place was suddenly lit up with this dim red glow. Oh well. Light was light.

I finally realized where I was. This was where all the stage crew kids did their stuff. There were soundboards and buttons to control lights and all these other things I knew absolutely nothing about, since I wasn't a stage crew nerd. There were also all these intersecting metal catwalks that went out all over the auditorium below me. Interesting set up.

Keeping a tight hold on my gun, I started across the nearest catwalk.

I spent about ten minutes carefully wandering around the catwalks, looking up and down and around. Unfortunately, I didn't even think of looking behind me, since I'd just been there. Until I was most of the way across a catwalk that led back to the soundbooth and the door and I heard something behind me.

I turned again, and it was the angel statue from before. "What the hell?" I mumbled, taking a step forward.

"Don't!" a voice behind me shouted.

I turned back around, and there was Mr. Bartholomew, sex hair and all. He wasn't looking at me, though. His eyes were fixed on the statue behind me.

"What the hell?" I asked again. This was getting weirder and weirder.

"I said don't. Putting less space between you and it is the stupidest thing you could do right now." he said. "Now turn around and keep an eye on it. Try not to blink."

Since he seemed to know more about this, I turned back around and watched the statue. But I wasn't comfortable with him behind me, so I backed up till I was next to him. Now I could keep tabs on him.

I guess He knew exactly what I was doing, 'cause he shook his head like he thought I was being ridiculous and said, "It's that thing you wanna watch out for, not me."

"Ain't like I'm gonna take your word for it."

Since Mr. Bartholomew told me to try not to blink and keep an eye on the thing, I decided to do something that seemed a little more efficient. I started shutting one eye at a time, switching back and forth, to make sure I had at least one eye on the thing at all times. I mean, there's only so long a person can go without blinking. This made a lot more sense.

After a tense pause, I asked, "Why are we watching a statue? Shouldn't we be looking for whatever's moving it?"

"It's moving itself."

"So it's possessed?"

"No, it just is what it is."

"Yeah, 'cause that's helpful."

"Look, come with me." He pulled at the bottom of my jacket sleeve and we slowly backed out the door.

You know something's wrong when you spend so much time moving backwards.

Mr. Bartholomew started running the minute we shut the door, and I just followed him. He seemed to have all the answers, and I sure as shit wasn't going home to Dad with nothing.

I stopped when we turned a corner and he ran inside a small, weirdass blue box, though.

After a second, he stuck his head back out and said, "Dean, are you coming?"

I took a step back. "Look, thanks for… whatever the hell this has been, and I guess I like you a bit more now than I did before, but I'm not ready to get _that_ friendly."

Mr. Bartholomew rolled his eyes, grabbed my arm, and pulled me in.

**_Author's afterthought: And there you have a beginning! Please review and tell me what you think, I really really appreciate it._**


	2. Even If You Did Die

_Author's note: Well, hello again. This next chapter doesn't have a whole lot of the doctor in it, but he is here, so there's your fair warning._

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and Doctor Who are not mine**

_**Chapter 2: Even If You Did Die**_

**Dean's POV**

I'd seen a lot of weird things, no question. I dare you to live my life and not be able to say the same. But this was a whole nother level.

Mr. Bartholomew was smiling at me like he was waiting for an opinion, so I just said the first thing that came to mind.

"Son of a bitch, it's bigger on the inside."

Mr. Bartholomew smiled and headed over to this round console thing in the middle. "Everybody says that. Now, Dean, I'm gonna take you home. You tell your father there's nothing _supernatural_ about what's going on at the school and that this is something for the police."

"And why the hell should I lie to my dad for you?"

"Because I can't have hunters getting in my way right now. I promise I'll explain everything tomorrow. I just don't have time at the moment."

I guess that made sense. "Okay." I said hesitantly. "If you'll tell me everything, okay."

Mr. Bartholomew grinned. "Good. Alright, let's get you home." He threw a lever, and suddenly the whole floor started rocking, this weird sucking/whirring sound coming from everywhere.

I quickly grabbed onto the bar next to me to keep from falling over. "Son of a bitch!" This was not normal. Not normal at all. Once the floor stopped moving, I stared at Mr. Bartholomew in shock.

"Son of a bitch!" I said again.

He just gave me this knowing smile. "You know where the door is. You're home."

That didn't make any sense. We hadn't gone anywhere, we'd just shaken around a whole lot. "But-"

"Dean, I really am busy. Like I said, I'll explain tomorrow. Now go."

I wasn't really sure what else to do - I mean, what else _could_ I do, with a psychopath like this? - so I just headed over to the door and walked out. I guess it was time to head back into the school and deal with whatever the hell it was that was doing all this.

But when I stepped out, I was in the parking lot of the motel where we were staying.

I turned back around. "How the-"

But the box was already making its weird sound again and was disappearing right in front of my face.

"Not normal." I muttered, shaking my head. "So not normal." I turned around and headed inside.

Unfortunately, my dad was already home, sitting on the bed closest to the door, writing something in his journal.

"Dean, where've you been?" He didn't even bother looking up at me. If it was Sammy coming in this late, things would definitely be different. But at least he asked, I guess.

Then he ruined that by gesturing towards my sleeping brother in the other bed and saying, "You left Sammy here by himself for a long time, you know you can't do that."

"Sorry, sir." Because who cares if I'm out late? Who cares what could happen to me? Who cares that I'm always expected to put myself on the front lines of defense? Why should I matter?

"Go run a few miles."

I glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning. Man. But I guess it was better than some other punishments I'd gotten. Better not whine about it, or I might get something worse. "Yessir."

"We'll talk about what you should've done different when you're finished."

"Yessir."

XxXxX

When I was done with my miles - four, to be safe. You never know what my dad means by 'a few' - I came trooping back inside. I'd been chased by some guys shouting obscene propositions at me from a car for a little while, but I'd shaken them off. And it sure made it all the more interesting, so I guess that was worth it.

Sammy was still out cold, and my dad hadn't moved from his place on the bed. Still not sparing me a glance, he said, "Get a shower, then we'll talk. Keep it under five minutes."

"Yessir." I'd gotten showering in under five minutes and still getting clean down to a fine art. My dad felt it was an important skill for me to learn.

As soon as I was finished, I threw on a t-shirt and sweats and came and stood obediently in front of him.

He finally bothered to look up at me. "Dean."

I didn't say anything. That seemed safer.

"You can't leave Sammy alone like that."

I didn't even bother trying to explain that I was hunting, like he told me to, and didn't bring Sammy along, also like he told me to. There wouldn't be any point, because no matter what, he was right and I was wrong.

"I don't really care what you were doing or why." he snapped, his voice getting lower and darker. It was scarier than if he'd yelled. "All I care about is that you weren't doing what you were supposed to be. Sammy is your responsibility, Dean. You know that."

I nodded. "Yessir."

"Now get in bed."

I was pretty sure that Sammy and I were technically too big and too old to be sharing a bed, but there weren't a lot of other options except the floor - which, believe me, I went with plenty of times - so I crawled in next to the kid and closed my eyes. Man, today was out of whack.

XxXxX

A small hand shook my shoulder. "Dean." It shook me harder. "Dean."

I threw an arm over my eyes. "What?" I groaned. "Is the room on fire?"

"Dean."

Then it came to me who I was hearing. I moved my arm and opened my eyes to find Sammy leaning over me. I glanced at the clock. 4:00am. "Yeah, what's wrong?"

He didn't say anything, and I noticed that he was crying.

I sat up quickly. "Sammy?"

After another second's hesitation, he launched himself into my arms and just sobbed into my neck.

I didn't have any idea what in the hell could possibly be wrong, but I held him anyway and rocked him back and forth lightly, waiting for him to calm down. "Shh, Sammy. Shh." I laid back against the headboard and just let him lean on me, his hands fisted in my shirt and hiccupping in that cute way he always did when he was crying.

When I thought he'd had enough time to calm down some, I asked, "What's up, Sammy?"

Mumbling something about bad dreams and fire and me dying and leaving him all alone, he nestled his face deeper into my shirt and went on bawling.

Suddenly, I felt really bad about asking if the room was on fire when I first woke up.

"It's alright, Sammy. I'm here. It was just a dream. There's no fire, and I ain't dead, and you're definitely not alone. It's okay."

My dad stirred in his sleep, and I tensed. He was always upset with me if Sammy or I woke him up. It was my job to keep us quiet.

Sammy noticed how still I'd suddenly become and peeked out. "What? Is something wrong?"

"You wanna take this outside?" I asked.

Sammy nodded and we both slowly got up and headed out, my arm around his shoulders, trying not to trip over each other. We sat down on the steps and he leaned his head on my shoulder. I stayed silent. He should talk first.

"I was in bed." he finally muttered. "In the dream."

I nodded carefully.

"You were on the ceiling. Your stomach was bleeding. You were crying."

I stayed absolutely still. For a second, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

"You begged me to help you. Then fire ex-explo-exploded around you, and you started sc-screaming. For me, for Dad, for Mom, for Uncle Bobby… and then Dad came in and grabbed me and pulled me out. He didn't even try to help you, even though you were crying a-and sc-screaming and be-begging him to help you. He - he just wouldn't. He took me outside and there was no you and I was s-so scared and… he - he wouldn't help, and I was all by myself, and - and -"

I pulled Sammy into my arms and hugged him, cutting him off. That was enough of that.

Finally, after a good solid twenty minutes, Sammy pulled back and looked up at me. "You'd never go, right? Even if you did die?"

"Hell no, Sammy. I'd come back and haunt your ass."

**_Author's afterthought: Please review! It makes me feel by far happier than it probably should._**


	3. I Didn't Want to be the Bad Guy

_Author's note: Thank you all for your reviews. I really appreciate them. Here's another chapter for your entertainment._

**Disclaimer: Neither Doctor Who or Supernatural is mine.**

_**Chapter 3: I Didn't Want to be the Bad Guy**_

DEAN'S POV

I didn't even bother going to my classes the next day. I was too tired. All I'd get out of school was being sent to the office for sleeping - again - and then I'd have after school detention - again - and I wouldn't be able to talk to Mr. Bartholomew about whatever the hell it was that was going on last night. Instead, I just hung around in bed by myself - heaven knows where my dad got off to - until it was almost time for school to let out, then headed over.

I waited for Mr. Bartholomew in the hallway outside his room. I didn't exactly want to be alone with him again, and I needed somewhere loud enough that we wouldn't be overheard, and people wouldn't really question it if they saw us together.

When Mr. Bartholomew came out and saw me, he smiled a little wryly and walked over. "Dean."

I decided to just jump right into it. Screw beating around the bush. "You're not a real teacher, are you?"

"And you're not an ordinary teenage boy."

Well, there was no arguing with either of those things. "What was that thing last night?"

"It's called a Weeping Angel." he said. "They touch you and send you back in time. But they can't move when you're looking at them."

"Is that where all the students have been going?

He nodded. "Yes. But I wouldn't worry about this, Dean. I've got it under control. You're father is probably going to want to leave tonight, and you just go with him. Tell him exactly what I said last night, if you haven't already. This just isn't your kind of problem."

"I-"

"Dean."

I hesitated a second longer. "Okay."

Mr. Bartholomew patted my shoulder. "It'll make sense eventually, Dean. I promise."

XxXxX

I was sitting on the floor of our room helping Sammy with his homework when my dad walked in. He threw his bag in the corner, grabbed some whiskey out of the small fridge, and sat down on his bed.

"Hey, Dad." Sammy said.

"Hi, Sammy." Not exactly friendly in tone, but a response. That was good.

"How's it goin', Dad?" I asked.

"Have you wrapped things up at the school?" No 'good, how are you?'. Just making sure I got my work done.

I looked back down at Sammy's math homework, not really seeing it. I couldn't look my dad in the eye if I lied to him. "Turns out it's not our kind of problem. The cops'll handle it. We can go whenever."

Man, why was I doing this? I barely knew Mr. Bartholomew. But it wasn't like I could take it back now.

"Well, at least that's one less thing to worry about. Now, what are you boys doing?"

"Sammy's homework."

"Don't bother. We're leaving in the morning."

Sammy opened his mouth, outraged. "But-"

"That's enough, Samuel. Go get ready for bed."

Sammy looked at me for support, but I shook my head. Glaring, he stomped off to the bathroom.

I stood up. "Sammy-"

"It's Sam." he snapped, slamming the door shut.

I didn't want to be the bad guy, but Dad said. And what Dad says goes.

XxXxX

Six months went by a lot faster than I thought it would.

What'd happened since wasn't all that interesting. Just more of the same. Hunt, flunk school, move on to the next town.

Sammy argued with my dad every single time we had to go, but while that would've been weird before, it was honestly just par for the course at this point.

We didn't go over to Uncle Bobby's that summer. Him and Dad had some kind of fight, and apparently that meant we never got to go over there again. I knew better than to take that seriously, though. I'd lost track of the number of times Dad had said that over the years. But Sammy believed him, so he was even more sullen and moody than usual for a good three months. It was kinda hard to deal with, especially when he started snapping at me too.

I honestly didn't understand why he'd suddenly taken issue with me. I wasn't doing anything different. But for some reason, he'd decided that doing what my dad said translated into having no independent thought and that therefore made me some kind of extension of my dad. Not the older brother who'd helped him every step of the way. I'm not gonna deny that stung. A lot.

Other than that, it's really been fairly uneventful. A bunch of the same. Just another day in the fabulous life of Dean Winchester.

Until it wasn't.

XxXxX

"What's for dinner?" Sammy - excuse me, _Sam_ \- asked as he wandered out of the bathroom.

"Macaroni."

"Again?"

"Yes, again." I said, my voice a little clipped. I didn't want to be mad at him, but if that little shit whined about what I made him for dinner one more time, I was gonna crack some skulls.

"You couldn't make something else?"

"You want something else?" I reached up and tore the cupboards open, exposing the bare shelves. "See what you can make out of that, genius."

"There's nothing?" Sam asked, walking over.

"Not right now. I'm gonna make a grocery run after school tomorrow. Sorry, no breakfast, but there's always lunch and dinner."

"So... macaroni it is?"

"Macaroni it is." I went back to stirring the pot.

"What about TV? Is there anything good on?" Sam sat down on one of the beds and turned on the television.

"No, I already checked."

"What're you talking about? _Family Matters_ is on."

I turned to face him, eyebrows raised. "Fa - what, excuse me?"

"_Family Matters_."

"Sam, that's not good TV. That's halfway-alright TV."

Sam shrugged. "Good enough for me."

Shaking my head, I returned my attention to the macaroni.

XxXxX

I was taking the trash out to the dumpster when I saw it. An angel statue.

I froze, standing in the middle of the parking lot, and just stared. I didn't see how it could be here. That whole... whatever that was had been back in Alabama, six months and a dozen states away. Why was it here now? And what did it want?

I blinked and it was a good ten feet closer.

"Shit!" I yelped, stumbling backwards a couple steps, keeping my eyes focused on that thing. "What the everloving hell?"

I blinked again and it was even closer, its outstretched hand centimeters away from my chest.

"Not good." I muttered. "So not good." Remembering what Mr. Bartholomew had said about not blinking, I kept my eyes open and backed up until I ran into the motel room door, twisted the knob behind me, and pretty much fell into the room. I slammed the door shut and locked it.

"Dean?" Sam looked up at me from his bed (_our_ bed, whenever Dad bothered to show up). "What's the matter?"

"In a minute, Sammy." I grabbed the table and shoved in in front of the door, then stacked the chairs on top of it. I knew it looked ridiculous, but it still made a decent barricade, and that was the point.

"Dean, what the hell?"

Instead of answering Sam, I looked out the window to see if the statue was still out there in the night.

Its face was pressed right up against the glass.

"Son of a bitch!" I yanked the curtains shut, debating how to go about blocking the window.

Sam got off the bed, stalked over to me, and grabbed my arm, demanding my attention. "Dean! Tell me what's going on!"

I barely managed to hold back from screaming at him that I didn't know, and I didn't know how to fix it. I was so out of my depth here that it was absolutely ridiculous, and I just wanted Dad to come home and figure out what to do, but I couldn't tell Sam that. I was the older brother. I was supposed to have all the answers. "Something's trying to get in. Grab a weapon. Something, anything."

That was something Sam could understand. He immediately went over to the nightstand and pulled out the glock Dad had given him for his birthday and checked to make sure it was fully loaded. I grabbed a sledgehammer I'd started hiding under my bed ever since my first encounter with the statue. I was going to turn this thing to rubble if it tried to get at us.

"What's trying to get in?" Sam asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady, but I could tell he was really scared.

"Nothing we can't handle." I said with a confident smirk, resting the sledgehammer against my shoulder. _I hope_, I added silently.

The door was rammed so hard it shook on its hinges, and I pulled Sammy behind me. He went without complaint. If I hadn't been so worried about both of us being violently murdered or sent back in time by a statue, I would've really appreciated him not insisting on being treated like an adult for once. Just listening to me, like he used to.

The doorframe splintered and the door swung inwards, sweeping the table and chairs before it, propelled by incredible strength. The angel statue stood framed in the doorway, frozen under my gaze.

Ready to fight, I raised the sledgehammer.

**_Author's afterthought: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks again for the reviews, and please continue to send them, I really appreciate it._**


	4. Burning With Shame

_Author's note: Hey, guys. I know it's been awhile, but school started and it's just been a bit chaotic getting back into the swing of things, and I haven't had much time to write. But I've got things more figured out now, and updates should be a little faster than this. Anyway, enjoy._

**Disclaimer: Neither Doctor Who or Supernatural is mine. If they were, I would be traveling around in a Tardis with Dean Winchester.**

**_Chapter 4: Burning With Shame_**

DEAN'S POV

"Dean, what the hell is that?" Sammy whispered, eyeing the statue in our doorway.

"I'll explain later, just keep your eyes on it." I took took a step forward, intending to beat it's ass into rubble, but before I could go any further, a weird sucking/whirring sound filled the room. I knew that noise…

Sam and I both turned at the same time to see the blue police box appearing in the center of the room.

Wait. Nobody was watching the statue.

I whipped around quickly, blinking as I did so, and the statue was right in front of me, one of its hands fisted in my shirt, the other hovering just above my forehead. I froze. Mr. Bartholomew had said that if it touches you, it sends you back in time, and I didn't know if that included statue time or not.

There was one thing I knew for sure, however. Next time someone blinked, I was royally screwed.

"Dean." Mr. Bartholomew's voice said in my ear, and he placed a hand on my shoulder. "You're okay, it's alright."

"Who the hell are you?" Sam questioned angrily, but Mr. Bartholomew ignored him.

"I hope you're not too attached to that shirt." Mr. Bartholomew grabbed one of the knives we had out on the table and cut off the chunk of my shirt the angel was holding onto. "Alright, everybody in." He gestured to the blue box.

I grabbed Sammy's wrist as I backed up to the door, keeping my eye on the statue. "Just do what he says. He's cool." I whispered.

"Oh, yeah, 'cause that really clears everything up."

"Just do what I say." I usually tried not to give him orders like that. He didn't appreciate it, and he didn't listen anyway. But this was important.

"But-"

"Sam, get in the damn box." Instead of waiting for him to listen, I just shoved him backwards through the door.

"Is he always like that?" Mr. Bartholomew asked as we backed inside and shut the door.

I shrugged. "Lately, yeah."

"What the hell?" Sam stared around the interior of the box, just as nonplussed as I'd been the first time. "This - I mean, science-"

I patted his shoulder. "Don't bother. Science or no science, it's just how it is."

"No, this just doesn't work."

I nodded slowly. "So witches... yeah, everything they do totally works with what you learned in science class."

"Hey guys." Mr. Bartholomew broke in from over by the console circle. "Escape now, argue about what can exist later?"

"Nobody asked you." Sam turned to face Mr. Bartholomew angrily, but before the kid got a chance to say anything else, he threw a lever and the weird sound started up again, the whole room shaking. I grabbed onto one of the bars around the - for lack of a better word - room. Sam stumbled sideways and I pulled him against me to keep him from falling.

"Dean, what the hell is this thing?" he gasped, fisting his hand tightly in my shirt.

I had no idea what to call it. Um… "A weirdass teleport-y box."

The shaking and the sound stopped, and Sam immediately let go of me. Independence and all that.

"Tardis, Dean." Mr. Bartholomew said with a small smile. "It's called a Tardis."

"Who are you?" Sam demanded.

"Cool your jets, Sammy." I said quietly.

Mr. Bartholomew put his hands in his pockets, rocking backwards and forwards on his feet. "I'm the Doctor."

I frowned slightly. That was new. "Doctor who?"

"Just the Doctor." he said brightly, and Sam whirled to face me.

"You said we could trust him, you let him drag us into some psychotic box that really shouldn't be able to exist, and you don't even know his _name_?"

I winced slightly. It actually sounded pretty damn bad when you said it like that. "It's a lot more complicated than that, Sammy."

"Yes, that was fairly oversimplified." the Doctor agreed.

Sam glared at him, but I cut the kid off before this could go any farther. "Where are we?"

"The middle of space, at the moment." The Doctor gave us a self-satisfied smile.

"_What_?" Sam ran over to the door and threw it open.

"Damn." I breathed, walking over too.

"That's… actually really cool." Sam said, glancing up at me. I could tell he was already changing his mind about the Doctor. "We can really trust him?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

XxXxX

It didn't take Sam very long to warm up to the Doctor. The kid could be suspicious on occasion, but he really just wanted to be able to trust people, and I'd already given the all clear.

We hung out up there in space with the Doctor for a good hour, staring out at space and checking out all his buttons, before he decided to take us to our dad. Apparently he was finishing up ganking some ghost whose body had been hidden in some barn in the middle of nowhere.

Part of me couldn't help but wonder how long it would've taken him to figure out something had happened to Sammy and me if the Doctor hadn't shown up to help out.

"Do we have to go find Dad right now?" Sam asked, giving the Doctor his best puppy dog eyes. I couldn't blame him for wanting to stay. Maybe see where else this baby could take us. But I also knew we had to go. We had to warn Dad before he went back to the motel and found a psychotic angel statue instead of his sons.

"I'm sorry, Sam." The Doctor ruffled the kid's hair. "I'll take you guys somewhere else later." He pressed a couple buttons and threw his lever again.

One jolting ride later, we were back on the ground. I walked over to the door, opened it, and stepped out.

To find a gun leveled at me.

"Shit!" I dove sideways as the gun went off, and thankfully, the bullet only grazed my shoulder. "Dad, it's us!"

"Dean?" Dad stepped a little farther into the open space of the barn. "What the hell, son?"

"Dean!" Sam jumped out of the Tardis as I got to my feet. His eyes narrowed when he saw the blood on my sleeve. "Dad, what the hell?! You shot him!" He reached out to take a look at my arm, but I pushed his hand away.

"He grazed me, Sammy, it's barely even a scratch. I'm fine."

"But-"

"You heard Dean. He's fine." Dad cut him off. "Now, what's with your box?"

"That would be my box." The Doctor stepped out next to Sam. "And it's called a Tardis."

Dad brought his gun up again. "Who the hell're you and what're you doing with my sons?"

"I'm the Doctor." For having a gun on him, the Doctor seemed ridiculously unfazed. "And I saved your sons, so you're welcome."

Dad glared at the Doctor, then turned his gaze on me. "Dean, explain. Now."

Not wanting to disappoint, I gave him the basic rundown of what'd happened, starting with hunting the weeping angel back at that school six months ago.

Once I fell silent, he just stood and glared at me for a solid minute while I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, my face burning with shame. There's not really anyone who can make me feel small quite like my dad.

"You lied to me." he said finally. "For a stranger."

"Yessir." I mumbled. I felt like his angry disappointment was going to turn me to ash.

"What the hell, Dean?!" he shouted.

"Sorry, sir." I watched the ground, making sure I didn't look like I was even thinking about challenging him right now. Obedient, just the way he liked me.

"If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with me." the Doctor suggested lightly, but when I glanced sideways at him, I could see a level of anger in his eyes. "I'm the one who asked him to lie."

"You stay away from my sons." Dad grabbed my arm without looking, his thumb pressing right against the cut from the bullet, and I bit my lip to keep from making a sound. He started pulling me along. "Come on, boys. We're gonna go get a different room in a different town."

"Most people would agree that you shouldn't man-handle your son like that." the Doctor said from behind us.

"Don't tell me how to be a parent." Dad glanced over his shoulder. "Sammy, I said let's go."

Sam glanced at the Doctor and received a reassuring smile in return. "It'll be alright, Sam. I'll see you both soon."

"Like shit, you will. Sammy. Now." Dad said.

Sam threw the Doctor one last look and followed us out the door.

XxXxX

Dad sent Sam to the arcade across the street for an hour, and he spent the whole time reaming me out. I shouldn't lie to him, I shouldn't trust strangers, I shouldn't get in magical blue boxes whether they say police on them or not, I shouldn't drag Sammy into shit like that, this whole thing was all my fault, '_damn it, Dean why can't you get your shit together?_'.

My punishment? Well.

All I got to do, for an indefinite period of time, was things related to hunting. Research, working out, caretaking weapons, training, and - of course - taking care of Sammy. No going out, no girls, no TV. And I certainly didn't get to drive. And if I made one more move he didn't like, he was going to lock me in the Impala's trunk, again for an indefinite amount of time.

Dad had just finished detailing all of that when the door opened and Sammy came in. Dad glanced at him.

"You're being punished too. Dean'll tell you what you're allowed to do. I'm going out. You two go to bed." He threw me another angry, dissatisfied look and headed out the door. We probably couldn't expect him back until maybe four in the morning. There was a bar a couple blocks away, after all.

**_Author's afterthought: Hope y'all enjoyed, and please review. I'm not gonna lie, more reviews means faster updates, it makes me more motivated._**


	5. We're So Screwed

_Author's note: Not a whole lot to say this time around. Enjoy._

**Disclaimer: Neither of these shows belong to me. Also, i am not trying to say bad things about cops in this chapter. It's just these characters. It's not like all cops are like this. **

**_Chapter 5: We're So Screwed_**

"Is your arm okay?" Sammy asked, coming over to the bed to sit next to me.

"I already told you, it's fine." I shrugged slightly. "I'll take care of it later."

"Dean, you've got blood all over your sleeve. You've got to do something about it." Sam reached out for my arm and I leaned in the other direction.

"You don't have to handle it, Sammy. I can do it. You just go to bed." I patted his shoulder and got up.

"Can I do my homework instead?"

I blinked a couple times, surprised. "But we're not in that town anymore. It's not like you have to turn it in."

"I still wanna learn the stuff, Dean."

"But… you don't have to."

"And that is why I've got As and you're failing."

"That's not the only reason." I muttered, walking into the bathroom, but Sam didn't hear me.

I pulled off my overshirt and pushed the sleeve of my t-shirt up over my shoulder, checking out the cut on my bicep in the mirror. It was bleeding a fair amount, and it was deep, but it definitely could've been worse. It was almost bad enough for stitches, but not quite.

Super Glue it is, I guess.

But where were we keeping that? Did we even have any left?

"You want some help?" Sammy, stealth ninja that he could be when he actually felt inclined, had come over to the bathroom without me hearing and was now leaning against the doorframe, a little bottle of Super Glue in his hand.

I smiled slightly and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. "Sure, thanks." Super Gluing your own bicep could be a little tricky when your arm got so upset with you every time you moved it.

Sam grabbed a towel, got it wet, knelt down next to me, and started wiping up the blood. "Do you think we'll see him again?"

"The Doctor?"

Sam nodded.

"Well, yeah. He said we will, didn't he?"

"How long?"

I shrugged one shoulder while he got started with the Super Glue. "Dunno. But he's done everything he's said he'd do so far. He'll show sooner or later."

"If you say so."

XxXxX

I don't know what I was dreaming about, something weird, but I was actually kind of disappointed when a sound in the room that I didn't recognize woke me up. I didn't open my eyes, though. I knew better than to do that: it tips whoever it is off that your awake.

I listened hard for another sound, one hand tightening around the gun under my pillow and the other sliding sideways to grab Sammy's wrist, making sure he was still there next to me and cluing him in that something was wrong. His breathing shifted subtly, and I knew he was awake.

I was thinking quick, trying to decide what to do, when a cold, foreign hand pressed against the small of my back and suddenly everything changed.

The bed was gone, replaced by wet asphalt. Rain was falling on my face, and it was maybe forty degrees. Definitely outside. The only things that stayed the same were Sammy's wrist and my gun in my hands. I opened my eyes and sat up.

An alley. We were down some random alley.

Sam sat up too and grabbed my arm tightly. "Dean, where are we?"

I shook my head. "I dunno, Sammy." I looked around and spotted the Empire State Building out one end of the alley. "How'd we get to New York?"

"We're in New York?"

"Yeah, the tall one's over there." I stood up and pulled Sam to his feet. "I think the weeping angel got to us."

"Dean, we're so screwed." Sam's eyes darted around the alley like he was looking for an escape route. "Nobody has any idea what happened, we don't even really know what's going on, it's freezing, and you don't even have a shirt."

I glanced down. "Oh, yeah. I should probably find one of those."

"Yes, Dean. You probably should."

"Don't you get condescending with me." I said sternly, but smirked so he'd know I was messing around. "Come on, let's go; we gotta find a place to hole up till we can figure out how to get home."

"It's not like we can get a motel room. You're still a minor, and we don't have any money."

"Two words, Sammy. Abandoned buildings."

"Rats, Dean. Rats."

Damn it, I always forgot about those. "I'll shoot them."

"You've got _really_ limited ammo, Dean."

"Stop patronizing me. I'll just kick em or something; it'll be fine."

I stuck my gun in the waistband of my jeans and we carefully walked out of the alley, trying to get a feel for what exactly was going on.

"Dean, all these cars are from, like, thirty years ago." Sam pointed out.

"There's a newspaper in that trash can." I grabbed that paper out and looked at the date at the top. "Ah, man."

"What?"

"It's 1966. Our _car_ hasn't even been invented yet. Damn it."

Sam folded his arms. "I'll say it again. We're so screwed."

"We'll figure it out. C'mon."

We started down the street, trying to avoid being noticed. Except with me walking around in just my jeans and Sammy in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, we didn't really have a whole lot of success. But even though it was 1966, and people were just generally more friendly back then, this was still New York, and nobody stopped to see if they could help out. Sure got a lot of funny looks though.

"Okay, we really need clothes." I scanned the apartments on either side until I found what I was looking for. "That one looks like nobody's home. Let's go see if we can find some there."

Sam shifted slightly. "Dean, that's stealing."

"It's just a shirt for me, some jeans for you, and a couple pairs of shoes. It's not a big deal: they can spare it. C'mon."

I led Sammy into the alley next to the building and up the fire escape until we were on the same floor as the apartment, then carefully peeked through the window.

"Okay, I don't think there's anybody home."

Sam bit his lip. "Dean, I really don't feel good about this."

"Quit your bitching, Sammy." I kneed the window hard a couple times and shattered it, smirking at the small sound of protest Sammy made, and climbed in. He looked in, but stayed out on the fire escape.

"I'll keep watch."

I shook my head, but smiled a little. "Alright. See you in a minute."

I was in a small living room, not particularly extravagant, but cozy. They wouldn't miss some clothes. I carefully crept through the apartment until I found a bedroom that looked like it belonged to a couple teenage boys and started digging through their closet. I made a pile of the clothes we would need and was about to get up when I heard three people enter the room behind me. I tensed, my hand moving towards my gun.

"Freeze!" a man's voice shouted. "NYPD!"

Shit.

"Hands in the air and turn around slowly."

I did as I was told, clenching my jaw when I saw two policemen, one of whom had Sammy in cuffs.

"Put your weapon on the ground and kick it over."

I cocked an eyebrow. "You want me to kick a gun? Who taught you how to handle weapons? Wile E. Coyote?"

One of the cops stepped forward and hit me hard with his billy club, knocking me on the ground. He bent over and pulled the gun out of my waistband. "Watch your smart mouth."

"Get away from my brother." Sam snapped.

The cop raised his club to hit Sammy, and I pushed myself up off the ground and got in the way, taking it for him and winding up right back on the floor again.

"That's enough, Phil." The other cop, the one that had ahold of Sammy, looked a little uneasy. "They're just kids."

The first cop - Phil, I guess - rolled his eyes, but he did stop swinging his club around. Instead he cuffed me and hauled me to my feet. "Alright, wiseguy, let's go."

**_Author's afterthought: I hope you enjoyed and please review. I'm not kidding about more review meaning faster updates._**


	6. Jewelry? Cash? Alcohol? Drugs?

_Author's note: Happy new chapter, everybody. I don't have a lot to say at the moment._

**Disclaimer: Neither TV show is mine. If they were, Supernatural wouldn't be ending.**

_**Chapter 6: Jewelry? Cash? Alcohol? Drugs?**_

"For the last time; _what are your names_?"

I smiled lazily at the cop across the table. "I already told you. My name is Tom Cruise, and the kid here is my step brother, Charlie Sheen."

"Okay, 'Tom'. Say I believe you. Should I be expecting a Mr. Cruise or a Mr. Sheen to come get you?"

"That'd be a trick, considering we haven't been gifted our phone call yet."

"You can have your phone call in a minute. Why did you break into that house?"

I leaned forward. "Tell you what. I'll answer that question if you answer mine."

"Okay, kid. Fire away."

"How'd you know we were there?"

The cop gestured to Sam. "Saw 'Charlie' here hanging out on the fire escape."

Outwardly, I stayed calm, but inwardly, I was screaming. You know how it is when you're torn between frustration and panic. It doesn't do good things for a guy. "Ah, well. Thanks for the tip: I'll know what to do next time."

The cop slapped me across the mouth. "Watch it, smartass."

Sam glared at the cop angrily. "You touch my brother again, and you're gonna regret it."

"Because you're definitely in a position to make that happen. Now, shut up. Big brother and I have a deal." The cop ignored Sam and turned to face me. "Alright, I answered your question, you answer mine. Why did you break into that house?"

"I thought that was obvious." I glanced pointedly at the loose fitting clothes the cops had given us to replace what was missing before. "We were missing a few things."

"That can't be the only reason." The cop leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "You trashy little hoods are always after something lucrative when you're not busy trying to kill each other, so what was it? Jewelry? Cash? Alcohol? Drugs?"

I shrugged. "I told you what I was looking for. If you don't believe it, that's your business. Can I have that phone call now?"

"Fine, but we're not done. I'm going to go find out which phone's open." The cop stood up and walked out. I turned to face Sam.

"Next time we break in someplace, you're coming inside."

"It's not like I was trying to-" Sam started angrily, but broke off when a familiar sound started echoing through the room, and the blue police box slowly faded into sight.

"Oh, hell yeah." I grin at Sam, beyond relieved that I didn't have to be the responsible one anymore.

The door of the Tardis opened and the Doctor walked out. "Thank you for getting arrested." he said, undoing our handcuffs, and pulled us to our feet. "Allons-y." He led the way back into the box.

"Did you just thank us for getting arrested?" Sam asked while the Doctor pushed a couple buttons and threw his lever.

Once we were done getting thrown around, the Doctor smiled and said, "Yes, Sam. I did."

Okay, that didn't make any sense to me. "Uh… why?"

"I had no idea where the angel sent you, and looking is especially difficult when you don't know where or even when to do so. But you got arrested, and even though you didn't use your real names, it was still your fingerprints and pictures, which allowed me to find you. So yes. Thank you for getting arrested."

"I think that's the first time anyone's ever said that to me." I sat down on the floor, wincing slightly. Note to self: those cop bats hurt. A lot. "So, are we going home? Dad's gonna be worried." _And mad_, I added silently, _and I'm gonna wind up locked in the trunk. So yay me_.

"I don't think it's safe for you to go home." the Doctor said apologetically. "That weeping angel has taken a special interest in you, and if you randomly come back, it's just going to send you away again. Every time."

"Are you saying we can't go back _ever_?" Sam asked. He may have wanted to spend more time traveling around in the Tardis, but he was still a kid, and at some point, he just wanted to go home.

"What about our dad, huh?" I broke in. "We can't just leave him hanging like that. He doesn't even know what happened to us."

"I left him a note." the Doctor said a little defensively. "And the angel's not after him, so I wouldn't be too concerned."

"Doc, as fun as it would be, we can't just never go home."

"You'll go home, I promise." the Doctor said quickly, holding out his hands in a soothing gesture. "Just not yet. Later."

"When's later?"

"Once we've handled the angel. But first…" He ran over to the console. "There has to be something you want to see. Some place you've never been, some event you want to experience. All of time and space is at your fingertips. Worry about home later. Especially since we can make it seem like you've never even been gone."

"Whenever we want?" Sam clarified.

The Doctor nodded, smiling smugly. "And wherever you want."

"Dean." Sam turned to me, his eyes bright. "Dean, we can figure out the Kennedy assassination."

"Kennedy? Well, alright, then." The Doctor grinned. "Dallas, here we come."

I was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey, Doc, take us to the Grassy Knoll."

Sammy nodded enthusiastically, so the Doctor threw some levers and off we went. It was actually a much smoother ride sitting on the floor, but my sore body was still fairly unhappy by the time the room stopped shaking, and the bars suddenly became by far more useful for pulling myself up than they usually would be.

"Are you okay?" the Doctor asked worriedly, grabbing my elbow and helping me the rest of the way up.

"Yeah, I'm good." I threw him a cocky grin. "Never better."

"The cops were overly aggressive." Sammy said, since apparently he's incapable of keeping his mouth shut.

The Doctor nodded slowly, his face dark. "We'll make a stop later."

"It ain't impor-" I started, but the Doctor cut me off.

"Of course it is. But that isn't what we're doing right now. Right now, we're seeing if there was more than one shooter after your president." He smiled at me - though something about it felt off, like he was trying to seem happy and reassuring but was actually angry - and shepherded Sammy and me out the door.

Right away, I spotted a guy who looked ridiculously sketchy. At least, he did to somebody who knew what they were looking for. "Oh, he is _so_ packing."

"It's Dallas, Dean." Sam pointed out. "I bet at least half of these people are packing."

"Yeah, but he's bad-guy packing. Let's follow him. C'mon."

Stalking my target is one of my very favorite parts of hunting, so following this guy without being noticed until he stopped was just fun, even if my ribs were complaining. I've hunted with worse.

"Holy shit, dude." I whispered as the guy found a good spot and pulled out a gun. "There was another shooter. It's a damn well conspiracy."

"Dean, he's gonna shoot the _president_. We gotta do something." Sam started to take a step forward, but the Doctor grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry, Sam, but no."

"What're you talking about? We can fix this."

"It's a fixed point in time, I can't change it. Nobody can."

"A fixed point in time? What's that?" I'd seen my fair share of movies with time travel, but I couldn't remember any of them bringing that up. You could change just about anything.

"I'll explain back at the Tardis. We should probably go before… all of this happens."

"He's gonna kill the president, and you want us to go?" Sam asked, appalled.

"Yes, yes I do." The Doctor quietly herded us away from the shooter and back towards the Tardis. "Just be proud you've proved a conspiracy theory about one of the most controversial events in your country's history."

"That's true." Sam conceded, brightening a little. "I mean, we can't really tell anybody, but at least we know."

"I can't believe that guy got away with it." I shook my head as we entered the Tardis. "If I can get nailed for stealing some clothes, then he should get nailed for ganking the president. Not to mention all the other people that are probably in on it. I bed Dad was right, and it was actually the CIA all along."

Sam nodded. "You can't trust those guys."

"I mean, I don't like cops in general, but the CIA is worse."

"You're not wrong."

"The establishment: never there when you need it, always there when you don't."

"While you boys are making great points." the Doctor interrupted, "I think we should go someplace else. Where else do you wanna go?"

"Wait." I held up a finger. "You still need to explain all this 'fixed point in time' shit."

"It's fairly simple." The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth slightly. "There are certain events in history that are fixed. Nothing and no one can change them, not even me. The assassination of President John F. Kennedy is one of those events. A fixed point in time. There's nothing we could've done. If Sam had tried to stop the shooter, the only thing that probably would've accomplished is getting us in a lot of trouble."

I thought about that for a second, then nodded. "Okay. Where're we going now?"

'Whoa, wait." Sam interrupted. "You're just accepting that? That there are things that have happened, horrible things, that we just can't change?"

"Well, to be fair, we just barely found out time travel is a thing." I shrugged. "We already thought we couldn't change things that have happened. Now we just know that when it comes to certain stuff, that's true. Now, let's pick somewhere else to go. We don't have to go home yet."

**_Author's afterthought: READ PLEASE!_**

**_Okay, I guess I do actually have a little bit to say. I don't generally buy into conspiracy theories, but I'm not going to deny that I think the Kennedy assassination was fishy and there probably was a conspiracy and cover up of some sort. Now, who it was, I don't know. But I just think there's something more there. That's just an opinion, so please no arguing or shaming or being mean. This is fan fiction, key word being fiction, and I'm just trying to write something entertaining, not necessarily true. Let's all remember that._**

**_Other than that, please review!_**


	7. Way Too High Society

_Author's note: Not a lot to say currently. Enjoy._

**Disclaimer: neither of these shows belong to me**

_**Chapter 7:**_**_Way Too High Society_**

"Welcome to Victorian England!" the Doctor said dramatically, throwing the doors of the Tardis open and stepping out into the moonlit snow. "On Christmas Eve, of course." Sam and I cautiously exited behind him.

"Are you sure we gotta wear this?" I asked, pulling at the sleeves of my fancy, old-timey jacket.

"You two look great." the Doctor reassured us. "Do you want a top hat?"

"No." I said quickly.

"Alright, then, let's go."

We head off down the dark, quiet street. It was obviously kinda late, I'd say maybe around ten, and most people weren't on the street anymore. It was actually really pretty, I'm not gonna lie, even if it was ridiculously cold.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

"Well, I have some friends here that invited me to their party on Christmas Eve and told me I was welcome to bring a guest or two. They love making new friends, the more the merrier, obviously, and I think that you're just the kind of people they'll love."

I laughed, grinning brightly. "We offer to let you pick the destination, and you choose to take us to a party. I approve."

The Doctor smiled too, leading us up a well-decorated drive and a set of front steps, knocking on a door. "It's probably not the kind of party you've been to before."

The door was opened by a woman who was about sixty years old in a lacy red dress. "Oh, Doctor, you came!" she exclaimed, leaning forward to kiss his cheeks. "And you brought friends! How lovely!"

Sam and I hesitantly stepped forward when the doctor waved us up.

"And what are you're names?"

I had no idea how to sound formal like I was seemingly expected to, but I gave it a go. "Um… I'm Dean Winchester, and this is my younger brother, Sam...uel."

Sam glanced at me, a little surprised, and I suppose I couldn't blame him. Nobody ever called him Samuel, and I'd definitely never introduced him that way.

"It's wonderful to meet you boys. Please, follow me." She led the way into the house (if you could call this huge thing a house) and down a long hallway, still talking over her shoulder. "My name is Madam Charleston. Normally I wouldn't answer the door, but our butler, Timothy, is home for Christmas, which I think is just darling, and I prefer to greet the guests myself anyway. I'm absolutely delighted you boys could make it to our little gathering tonight. And may I just say that I love your waistcoat, Mr. Winchester. It's such a lovely shade of green, and it looks just beautiful with your eyes. The exact same color."

The Doctor smiled smugly while I looked down at myself. I hadn't noticed that. I'd been too busy feeling incredibly awkward in this kind of clothes. I'd never worn stuff like this before.

"And, of course, the younger Mr. Winchester looks wonderful as well. It's so rare to see a young man your age dressed so well. I greatly appreciate it, and I'm sure the other members of our gathering will as well.

Sam and I exchanged looks behind her back, eyebrows raised, and the Doctor was trying hard not to laugh. I guess he didn't know that this was way too high society for Sammy and me. He'd explained some social rules to us before we'd left the Tardis, but we were still in _so_ far over our heads.

Madam Charleston opened a door at the end of the hall and led us into a large open room full of people. Some of them were sitting at tables around the edge of the room, and others were dancing in the middle. Some really stuffy looking dudes were playing instruments on a raised platform in the corner. It wasn't really my scene, but some of the girls were hot, so how bad could it be?

"Oh, Mr. Winchester?" Madam Charleston placed her hand on my elbow. "I hate to trouble you, but my daughter, Katherine, is sitting alone at that table in the corner, and it's just not proper for a young lady to be by herself. She's about your age; would you mind keeping her company? I'm sure you two will get along wonderfully, and she's a lovely dancer."

Well, I wasn't about to say no. "I'd be happy to, Madam."

"Well, aren't you darling?" She smiled with a sweetness that was completely at odds with the strength in her grip as she steered me over to her daughter. This lady was in full-on matchmaking mode. "Katherine, dear?"

"Yes, Mama?" Katherine stood up to greet us.

Okay, I'm not gonna lie, she was _smokin'_. Black hair, green eyes, bow-shaped pink lips, pale, porcelain skin, and an incredible figure. She looked great in her low-cut, sleeves-off-the-shoulders, smooth, sapphire blue dress.

"This is Dean Winchester." Madam Charleston beamed at me. "He's a darling boy, and I think you'll have a lot to talk about." And with that, she left.

A little abrupt, but whatever works, I guess.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Charleston." I smiled at her, trying not to seem too modern.

"It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Winchester."

Okay, yeah, that was too weird. "Look, not to seem all informal or anything, but I'm just not used to people calling me that, so if it's alright with you, can we stick with first names? You call me Dean and I'll call you Katherine?"

Her smile had been formal and stiff, but now it relaxed into something warmer and more real. "Of course I'll call you Dean. But I prefer Kate to Katherine, if that's alright with you."

"Yeah, of course." We sat back down at the table.

"So, Dean." Kate shifted to face me, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap. "You have a slight accent. If you don't mind my asking, where are you from?"

Shit, what year was it? And when exactly was America first a thing? I knew they'd signed the Declaration of Independence in 1776, but there was the war after that, and I didn't know when that ended or when in that time we technically became a nation. Signing the Declaration? Winning the war? Creating the Constitution? And were there a bunch of hard feelings between Britain and America right now?

Oh well, whatever. I guess I'll just take a shot.

"I'm American."

"If you live in America, then what are you doing here?" There didn't seem to be any disdain in her question, just curiosity.

"Oh, well…" Complicated. Very complicated. Good thing I'm the master of half-truths. "D'you know the Doctor?"

Her whole face lit up. "Oh, I love the Doctor! He brought you here then?"

"Yeah, me and my little brother."

"Well, that's just lovely. And I'm very glad you're here. To be perfectly honest, I thought this was going to be a very dull party, but you've made it far more interesting."

"Ah, well, we've all got our jobs in this world."

She quickly stifled a tinkling laugh. "Funny too. I like you, Dean."

"Well, I'm flattered. You seem great too."

She glanced over at the dance floor. "Are you going to ask me to dance, Dean? It's customary."

"Normally, I would. But I don't have any idea how to dance like that." I admitted, also looking over at the waltzing couples.

"Are things different where you come from, then?"

"Oh, yeah." I laughed, remembering some of the dancing I'd done. "It's a lot more…" Man, what the hell kind of word could I use here? "It's a lot more sensual than any of this."

Kate bit her lip for a second, surveying the room, then smiled a little wickedly. "I have a brilliant idea. Follow me." She grabbed my hand gently and led me around the edge of the dance floor, around a partial wall, and into a small, dark alcove.

I raised an eyebrow. I didn't think England way back now was so… risque.

She turned to face me, her green eyes seeming to glow in the dim light. "We can dance however we want here. You said you dance differently; teach me."

"Alright. But keep in mind, you can tell me if you don't wanna take things so far. I'll stop."

"Such a gentleman." Kate brought her arms up behind my head and linked her fingers at the back of my neck, clearly thinking this was intimate, but there was still what suddenly felt like a fair amount of space between us.

I shook my head, smiling slightly, as I slowly wrapped an arm around her waist, my hand lightly skimming her hips and back, making her shiver. I gently pulled her against me. "Sweetheart, when we're done here, you sure as hell ain't gonna think I'm a gentleman anymore."

You'd think it'd be difficult to dirty dance with the kind of music they'd play at a party like that, but it was actually surprisingly easy, and it definitely helped that she took to it like a pro. I could barely believe she'd never been taught to move this way.

Once I could tell Kate was getting tired, we sat down on a bench at the very back of our little alcove, deep in the shadows. She left a hand on my knee, and I kept my arm around her, neither of us ready to lose physical contact just yet.

"I think I really love America." Kate said a little breathlessly.

I smiled softly. "You'd fit right in."

"I've never done anything like that before. Americans have wonderful style."

"Well, we've had a lot of practice."

"I'm sure."

We sat in silence for a minute, but I couldn't help turning to her and asking, "Kate, have you ever kissed anyone?"

She looked up at me, a little startled by the question. "No. Have you?"

"Am I a skank if I have?"

Kate cocked her head slightly. "Your speech is very strange, at times."

Damn it. Skank probably wasn't a word now. "Well, y'know, America. Sorry." That was shaping up to be a very useful excuse.

"Oh, it's not a problem." she said quickly. "It's actually fairly interesting. I suppose people speak differently in America?"

"Yeah, we got a language all our own."

"So when you're asking if having kissed a girl makes you a 'skank', what are you trying to say?"

Oh goody, more explanation. Okay, I could do this. "Y'know. Somebody with loose morals."

"Oh." Kate nodded thoughtfully, actually thinking it over. "Maybe, by some people's definitions, that would make you a… skank."

I leaned a little closer to her, hoping she'd take the hint. "And by your definition?"

"I think that, skank or not, whatever it is you are is wonderful."

I smiled slightly, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck. "Well, thank you." I whispered, pulling her to me, and gently kissed her.

She didn't protest, so I didn't stop.

After a minute, she pulled away from me in surprise. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"It's called French Kissing."

"But you're American, not French."

I shrugged. "We borrowed it. And liked it so much, we kept it."

"Now _that_ sounds American." she laughed, leaning in and kissing me herself this time. For never having kissed anybody else, she had pretty good natural technique. Though I suppose my experience probably helped.

Somebody cleared their throat loudly, and Kate and I broke apart in surprise. Sam and the Doctor were standing there, Sam exasperated, the Doctor vaguely amused.

"Hey, Doc." I said easily, lounging back on the bench. I wasn't embarrassed to be caught like this. It was definitely not the worst position anybody'd ever walked in on. Being found making out was really pretty normal for me.

Kate, on the other hand, was red as a stop sign and looked like she'd been caught with the murder weapon in her hand and blood all over her clothes. "Doctor! And you must be Dean's - er, Mr. Winchester's younger brother. It's lovely to meet you." She pulled the sleeve of her dress up a bit. "You won't tell my mother, will you?"

"No, of course not. But we really should be going." the Doctor said. "We have lots to do, and I believe your mother is wondering where you and Mr. Winchester have run off to."

"Yes, of course." Kate got to her feet and I stood too. "I should go reassure her. It was lovely to see you again, Doctor, and to meet your friends." She curtsied politely, threw me a wicked smile, and left to find her mom.

"Dean, seriously?" Sam asked the second she was out of earshot. "Do the words 'corrupting the innocent' mean anything to you?"

"Her mom started it. I just finished it." I pointed out, smirking in a self-satisfied sort of way.

"_Dean_."

"I didn't do anything all that wrong. I just taught her a new way to dance and kissed her a little bit."

"It's alright, Sam." the Doctor said, putting his hand on the kid's shoulder. "I don't think Kate's had that much fun at one of her mother's parties in a very long time. But I wasn't kidding when I said we should go, so…"

He waved us along and we followed him out, thanking Madam Charleston for having us on the way. She made a point of making sure I understood that I was welcome to 'call on Katherine' whenever I felt so inclined.

The Doctor laughed as we headed back down the street towards the Tardis. "I forgot Madam Charleston tried so hard to marry her daughter off. Sorry about that, Dean."

"It's fine." I waved my hand dismissively. "Kate was a cool chick; we had a good time."

The Doctor opened the Tardis door. "Well, I'm glad."

"Um, guys?" Sam cut in. "Hate to interrupt and all that, but we got company."

The Doctor and I turned around in surprise. The weeping angel was a little ways down the street.

"Oh, come on." I groaned. "We still ain't shaken him?"

"Get in the Tardis." The Doctor grabbed the backs of our jackets and guided us inside while Sam and I kept an eye on the angel.

I slammed the door shut. "I thought you said it wouldn't bother us if we stayed out of our timeline. What happened to having some fun now and ganking the angel later when we're ready to go home?"

"I don't know how or why it followed you." the Doctor said, apparently just as confused as me. "I knew it'd become a bit fixated, but this is ridiculous."

"What's so special about us? I mean, it's not like we've ever done anything to it, and it just randomly decided to be a creepy stalker."

"What actually is a weeping angel, anyhow? Like, where do they come from?" Sam asked.

"It's basically the vengeful spirit of an angel. Some dead people become vengeful spirits, some dead angels become weeping angels." I'd read up on their origins after that first run-in at the school months ago.

"So why would it be after us?"

I shrugged. "Hell if I know."

"It doesn't matter right now." the Doctor cut in. "It's out there, and we're in here. We'll go find something else to do. We can handle the angel later."

"What if it comes back?" I asked.

"It'll be fine."

"You sure, Doc?"

"Mmm… 99%."

_**Author's afterthought: I thought they deserved to go have some pointless fun at a party, 'cause everybody deserves that in their lives every now and then. Either way, please review! It makes me happier than it has any right to, and I'm not gonna lie, it makes me update faster.**_


	8. Pretty Outta Hand

_Author's note: Hey, guys. Sorry it's been so long, but it's been a hectic last couple weeks. Now that things have settled down a bit, I should be back on track. Hope you enjoy what I've got for you today._

**Disclaimer: Neither Supernatural or Doctor Who are mine, it's just fun to play with them on occasion.**

_**Chapter 8: Pretty Outta Hand**_

Apparently 99% is good enough for me, because I put the angel out of my mind and picked a new place for us to go. Nowhere anything particularly important had happened. I just really wanted to go play pirates.

Apparently the Doctor knew a guy, so it was chill for us to just show up on his ship.

I knew I'd found my happy place the minute I stepped out the door. The salty sea air, the ocean breeze, the sunlight glinting off the water, and the feel and sound of the ship under my feet. I don't care if I sound cheesy and ridiculous. It was _awesome_.

I walked over to the railing and leaned as far over as I could without falling. "Hey, Doc, are sea monsters real?"

"I suppose, technically. It really depends on where you are and what's going on." he said thoughtfully.

"Think there are any around here?"

"I doubt it. I tried to avoid things like that, since it seemed like you wanted to have a regular high-seas adventure. Swords. Buried treasure. Not particularly interested in more monsters."

"Yeah, not right now."

"So I brought us to the day my friend is going to find the treasure he's been searching for for a few years now. We'll help him navigate the cave, avoid the traps, and retrieve it."

I laughed, standing up straight so I wouldn't fall overboard. "That's _awesome_. Sammy, isn't that friggin awesome?"

"It's like something out of a book." Sam said. I suppose that was a positive answer to my question. I wasn't entirely sure, but he liked reading, so that had to mean something good, didn't it?

The Doctor smiled at my enthusiasm. "I'm going to go find Captain Sherwood, bring him out here so he can meet you. Try not to fall off and drown while I'm gone." He waved and headed down below.

"Dean, it's really cool and everything, but what's the deal with these clothes?" Sam asked the minute the Doctor was out of sight.

"It's called looked awesome." I said happily, because, I mean, c'mon. Black leather boots, black pants, loose white shirt. I looked so cool. "I mean check it out! I even get a sword!"

If you can't tell, I'm a little overly enthusiastic about pirates.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I don't know what idiot gave you that."

"Hey, I'm nothing if not good with weapons."

"So these are the lads, Doctor?" Captain Sherwood and the Doctor strode across the deck towards us. "They look as if they'll do the trick."

I grinned wildly at Sammy. "Dude, this is gonna be pretty outta hand."

Sam paused, confusion flashing across his face as he recognized the phrase. "Did you see St. Elmo's Fire again?"

"My last girlfriend was in the mood." I said with a shrug. "Besides, it got her in another kind of mood, if you know what I mean."

Sam shook his head, but didn't respond. He'd been doing that lately. Something about not encouraging me.

"Their speech is very strange, Doctor." Captain Sherwood said, perplexed. "What year are they from?"

The Doctor smiled, hands in his pockets. "1995."

"You mean the world hasn't ended by then?"

"Not yet."

"But we're getting there." I added. "They keep telling us we're breaking the planet."

"Breaking the planet?" Captain Sherwood looked shocked. "The future must be a horrifying place."

"You can say that again. People are crazy." Sam agreed.

I shrugged. "Eh. It's not that bad."

XxXxX

We got off the ship at a small island and went ashore. Captain Sherwood had a lot of crew members, but nobody questioned us. Apparently the Doctor had helped them out with some alien monster squids a couple years back, so we weren't too weird to them.

"That cave holds the treasure we seek." Captain Sherwood said once we were assembled on the beach, pointing at the dark cave entrance. "It will not be easy. But it will be doable. Stick close together." With that, he turned and led us forward into the darkness.

"Dean, I can't see." Sam whispered as we followed the pirates into the dark cave.

"No shit, Sherlock." I pulled out my lighter and flicked it on. It didn't do a whole lot, but it was something. "Seriously regretting leaving my flashlight in the Tardis right now."

"What is this magic?" One of the pirates next to me was staring at the lighter with delighted interest.

"It's not magic." I said, showing it to him. "Just technology. There's lighter fluid inside, and if you roll this little wheel here with your thumb quickly, it scrapes against this, which creates friction, which creates a spark and lights it. It's just more efficient firemaking."

"Ingenious." The pirate smiled at the lighter. "But I heard you mention a 'flashlight'. What is a flashlight?"

Oh man. This was gonna be harder. "So, you know lightning?"

The pirate nodded attentively, which actually made me feel oddly gratified. Sam had stopped listening to me quite that way when he realized I wasn't immortal and didn't have all the answers anymore, and it was nice to know I still had enough valid information and experience to have someone pay that much attention to me.

"Well, when we come from, people have figured out how to control its energy to do all kinds of stuff. One thing we use it for is to create light."

"So you don't need fire for light?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"That's incredible."

"A flashlight is one thing we use to hold that light. It's a metal cylinder with a thin glass covering over one end. There's a button on it, and if you press it, you can turn the light on and off."

"It doesn't even stay on all the time? You can choose if it's glowing?"

"Yep."

"And any normal person can have one?"

"Yeah, pretty great huh?"

"Amazing."

"Dean, maybe you should stop blowing everyone's minds." Sam broke in.

I glanced at the pirate who was now immersed in explaining lighters and flashlights to one of his crewmates. "Yeah, that's probably enough for now. Dude, imagine if I tried to help him understand cars."

"He'd be lost: he's struggling with the concept of flashlights."

"And I didn't even bring up the batteries."

"Ha ha ha."

"Stop here." Captain Sherwood called, and we all halted. "Mr. Winchester, would you bring your hand-held fire up here?"

Apparently more people had been listening to me than I thought.

I made my way through the crew until I was next to him. "Yessir?"

"Shine some light on the glyphs on this wall."

I held the lighter up next to the wall. I didn't know what the little pictures meant, but they were cool.

"Doctor, do you know what this says?"

The Doctor came up behind us and leaned forward to read the glyphs, his hand on my shoulder. "Whoever these people are, they must have come from the future: they're using the clues from the third Indiana Jones movie."

"Really, Doc?" I turned to face him, my face lighting up. "Oh, I got this _wired_."

"What is a movie?" Captain Sherwood asked. "And what is wired?"

"Wired is another way to say it's gonna be easy, and movies would take way too long to explain." I turned to face the passage ahead of us. "And this is going to be the coolest thing that's ever happened to me. I've always wanted to try this."

**_Author's afterthought: Tada! Please review!_**


	9. We All Have Our Jobs in this World

_Author's note: Hey, guys! So, as you all know, this chapter is going to be very closely related to the 3rd Indian Jones movie. I'm just saying that it's an awesome movie, and if you haven't seen it, you should totally watch it. It's worth it, trust me._

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Doctor Who. If I did, a couple certain recent deaths would not have taken place. I'm looking at you, Supernatural writers.**

_**Chapter 9: We All Have Our Jobs In This World**_

Apparently handheld fire and a knowledge of flashlights and movies was enough to make a group of violent grown men listen to me, because they all just waited to see what I was going to do.

Sammy walked up to stand next to me. "You sure you've got this?" he whispered.

"Sammy, how many times have I seen this movie?"

"A lot."

"Exactly. I know it backwards, forwards, and inside out. Don't sweat it." Patting his shoulder, I carefully crept forward ahead of everybody else, far enough in front that they would have time to copy my movements before they got their heads chopped off or something unfortunate like that.

"The breath of God. Only the penitent man shall pass." I said quietly, examining the walls in an attempt to find slits for saw blades to suddenly appear from. "The penitent man kneels before God." 3, 2, 1… "Kneel!"

I dropped to my knees and rolled forward (because that logically followed in the movie for some odd reason) narrowly avoiding the two blades, and continued down the passage so I wouldn't be anyone's way.

"The word of God. Only in the footsteps of God will he proceed." I stopped on the edge of a large grid of letters, examining them carefully. "The name of God. Jehovah." I stuck my foot out and tapped the J hard, watching it crumble away into the darkness as I said, "But in the Latin alphabet, Jehovah starts with an I."

Was I having way too much fun with this? Yes. Did I care? No.

Careful not to put my weight on any of the other letters, I crossed the floor. "I-E-H-O-V-A." They'd ditched out on the H too for some reason.

"I forgot that part." Sam said from behind me.

"Which part?"

"That Jehovah starts with an I."

"Good thing I went first, then, isn't it?"

"How carefully were you watching the movie to remember that?"

I looked back at him incredulously as we continued down the passage. "You'd have to be paying, like, zero attention not to remember. Indiana forgot and almost fell down into the abyss and died."

"He almost dies all the time; it kinda blends together after a while."

I shook my head and turned to face front again. Sometimes, I couldn't help thinking that Sammy really needed to sort out his priorities.

I stopped as the passage ended abruptly, opening into a humongous chasm. I could see where our path continued on the other side. "The path of God." I leaned out over the ravine, trying to see the bottom.

It was too deep and too dark.

I shifted, trying to psyche myself up enough to do what I needed to do, but before I even really started moving, Sam grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Dean, don't."

"What? Why not?"

"It's a movie, Dean, not solid fact."

"It's been right so far."

"Exactly. If I were really trying to keep something safe, and somebody knew enough to get this far, I'd go off book for this one, once they were lulled into a false sense of security."

I shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"Dean-"

Ignoring Sam, I turned back to the dizzying drop. Even with my confidence that the invisible bridge would be there, just like in the movie, this was nerve wracking.

"Only a leap from the lion's head." I muttered and stepped out into the void.

For one heart-stopping moment, I couldn't help wondering if I was wrong as I started to tip forward, but then my feet planted firmly on seemingly thin air. I looked around me, laughing a little. Just like in the movie.

"See, Sammy? No problem." I started carefully across the bridge, assuming that the movie was also right about there not being a guard rail, but stopped and looked back when I realized that only Sam had followed me. Instead of stepping out onto the bridge, the Doctor was just standing there next to Captain Sherwood, trying not to laugh, and I could see why. The pirates were staring at Sammy and me like we were the second coming.

"What are you?" one of the pirates (99% sure it was the first mate) asked. "You carry fire in your pocket and hold it in your hands, you know how to spell the name of God correctly, and you walk on air. You can't be mortal."

I shrugged. "Nah, we're normal."

Captain Sherwood shook his head wonderingly. "There may be many words which describe you, but normal certainly is not one of them. There is something in you both of the divine."

Religious pirates? Seriously? "Well, that's great, but we're all still in the middle of something. So, if you please…" I gestured to the bridge, essentially telling them to move their sorry asses.

"But we're not like you." one of the other pirates pointed out. "We'll fall."

"Oh, for the love of - Look. We'll protect you from falling as long as you stay on the path, okay? Just don't step anywhere I don't."

They all hesitated a second more, then nodded and allowed the Doctor to lead them down onto the bridge.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, continuing on my way across the bridge and back into the passage. "Friggin idiots." I mumbled to Sam, pushing some cobwebs out of my face. "_There is something in you both of the divine_. I mean, who the hell even talks like that?"

"Deeply religious pirates, apparently." Sam said, smirking.

"And that's another thing. Religious pirates? They're violent murderers and they steal everybody's stuff. How're you supposed to be religious if you're acting like that?"

"Dean, horrible things are done in God's name all the time. Even the KKK are religious."

I shook my head. "That's not real religion."

It wasn't long before the passage came to an end, and we stepped out into a wide chamber that was a total replica of the grail room. Minus the crazy, immortal knight, of course.

"So, somebody had a bunch of expensive cups, and to have fun with hiding it, they decided to do the place up like _The Last Crusade_." I say slowly. "I approve."

Sam shook his head. "You would."

"Do you think there's one of em that's all plain and actually works?"

"No." he said sharply. "And don't you dare try it. I mean it this time."

I held my hands up in surrender. "Okay. I'll leave it alone."

Together, the two of us crossed the room to check out the cups. The Doctor and the pirates filed into the chamber, the Doctor coming to stand with us and the pirates immediately fanning out and collecting the cups into burlap sacks.

"Wait!" A guy who looked like the old immortal knight from the movie hurried out of a door leading to a small side chamber, ridiculously anxious. "Wait!"

I turned to face him, disapproving. "You _really_ missed your cue, man."

"I know, I'm sorry." The knight wiped some sweat off his forehead. "I've just been waiting down here for, like, 55 years. Ever since I was 20. I was so surprised to actually see somebody that I froze."

"Why're you the one they left behind?"

"I volunteered."

I nodded slowly. "Dedication. Good for you."

"And you found your way through, so good for you too. Obviously, you're not like these guys." He jerked a thumb at the pirates. 'What year are you from?"

"1995."

"1989. Any movies worth mentioning come out while I was gone?"

"_Ghost_, with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze, was a good one. Um… _Point Break_, with Keanu Reeves and, again, Patrick Swayze, was also a good one."

"Swayze doing good for himself, or are you just a big Swayze fan?"

I shrugged. "A little bit of both."

"I have a question." Captain Sherwood interrupted.

"Yeah?"

"What?"

"This man is from the future." the Doctor explained. "He helped hide the treasure roughly half a century ago. And they were just talking about more of those movie things that would make no sense to you."

Captain Sherwood just shook his head a little bemusedly. "The future really is just _different_. You especially." he added as an afterthought pointing to me.

I shrugged. "Well, we all have our jobs in this world, and I happen to excel at mine."

XxXxX

After leaving the pirate ship, the Doctor took us to some diner from the 1950's for lunch.

"So." he said once we'd gotten our burgers and fries and coke. "Where do you boys want to go now? Sam, I believe it's your turn to pick."

Sam bit his lip thoughtfully. "What about Dad?"

The Doctor paused, genuinely surprised. "What about John?"

"Don't you think he's worried?"

"I left him a note."

"Trust me, Sammy." I cut in, stealing one of his fries now that mine were gone, jerking my hand back when he slapped my wrist for reaching for another one. "Dad ain't worried. He's pissed."

"But don't you think we should at least let him know that we're okay?" Exactly what Dad would want, for once.

"No." Normally, I'm all for doing what Dad would want. But… I just didn't want to. I was having too much fun, and I knew Dad would put a stop to it.

Sam stared at me, shocked. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

"C'mon, Sammy, think about it. Are you really ready to give this up just yet? 'Cause Dad'll make us stop, and you know it."

Sam hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. We'll leave Dad out of it for now."

The Doctor smiled. "Good." If I didn't know any better, I'd say he really didn't like my dad. "Now that we've got that settled, where are we going?"

"How about the future this time?" Sam suggested. "Once they have hover cars and stuff."

**_Author's afterthought: Please review, guys! I know you're reading, and reviews make me really happy!_**


	10. Back to the Future Was Wrong

_Author's note: Here you guys go. Enjoy. I know it's not a particularly long chapter, but I wanted to give you guys something._

**Disclaimer: Neither Doctor Who or Supernatural are mine**

_**Chapter 10:**_** Back to the Future****_ Was Wrong_**

"So, the second _Back to the Future_ was wrong." I said, a little disappointed, while I examined a friggin holographic newspaper. "Look at this date. It took until 2115? Really?"

"This is why you shouldn't take movies as fact." Sam said, smirking condescendingly.

"It worked with the pirates." I reminded him. "If you'd tried to do that stuff, you would've fallen through the floor."

"Let's not argue." the Doctor interrupted. "Wouldn't you rather go play with the hover cars?"

"Yeah, c'mon, Sammy."

"Piggy-backer."

I stuck my tongue out at Sam, he rolled his eyes, and we followed the Doctor down the dark street, looking for hover cars.

Even if it had taken people a lot longer than I thought was acceptable, the future was pretty damn cool, not gonna lie. The streets and buildings were made of a dark, reflective material, like black glass. It was cool and hard and smooth, but somehow not slippery. Everything was outlined in glowing strips of light. The edges of the buildings, signs, trash cans, doors, you name it. Cars were flying above our heads, the 'roads' and lane lines made of more of the glowing lines. The clothes the Doctor had given us to blend in were friggin awesome too. Black shoes with glowing soles, black jeans, black t-shirts, and black leather jackets with a glowing stripe down the right arm.

The future's great. 10/10. Would highly recommend.

"Dude." I grabbed Sam's wrist and pulled him off the street/path thing - I really don't know what to call it. It's not a road, it's not a sidewalk, so what is it? "I know we're looking for hover cars, but look at _these_."

I'd found a parking lot full of hover bikes. Does it get much better than flying motorcycles? I submit that it cannot.

The Doctor looked around with a smile. "Whoever invented these obviously saw Harry Potter one too many times."

I frowned in confusion. "What?"

"Nevermind." The Doctor waved his hand dismissively. "Give it a couple years and Sam will be all over it."

I shrugged. "Okay." Usually I prefer to understand, but for some reason, when the Doctor said to give it time, I was willing to give it time. "Either way, don't you guys think it'd be fun to play with these? Until we find the hover cars, anyhow."

"Do you even know how to drive a motorcycle?" Sammy asked skeptically.

I raised an eyebrow, a little affronted. "Of course I do."

"Oh yeah? How'd you learn? It's not like Dad taught you."

"A few states ago, Jennifer Chambers and I took her dad's bike out for a joyride. She taught me how. And, of course, we reenacted that scene from Top Gun where Kelly McGillis and Tom Cruise make out on the bike."

"I didn't need that information." Sam said firmly. "I _really_ didn't."

"I think your brother's going to give you whatever information he wants, whether you need it or not." the Doctor observes lightly, examining the bikes.

I smirked triumphantly at Sam and walked over to a sleek black bike. "I like this one."

"You would. It's black." Sam followed me, running a hand over the it. "But this time, I don't blame you. This thing's nice."

"Alright then, get on." The Doctor walked over while I climbed on and Sam got on behind me, pulling out a little metal wand thing with a glowing blue light on the end.

"The hell is that thing?" I asked.

"My sonic screwdriver." The Doctor held the glowing blue light over the ignition of the bike for a second, pushing a button. The screwdriver made a clicky-whirring sound, and the bike roared to life.

"Awesome." I threw the bike into gear and we shot upward, leaving the ground far behind.

"Holy shit!" Sam shrieked, his arms tightening around my stomach.

"Language, Samuel." I said mockingly while we hovered in midair, just drinking in the view. "We're a lot closer to God than usual up here."

"Shut up, Dean."

The Doctor flew up next to us on a bike of his own. "It's beautiful up here. Too bad it's always dark."

"It's always like this?" Sam looked up at the black sky. "I thought it was just a cloudy night."

The Doctor shook his head. "It's actually about noon. Humans polluted the atmosphere enough that this happened."

I looked up at the sky too. "No stars?"

"Sorry, Dean."

Suddenly, my enthusiasm for the future dropped. The place looked cool, there was no denying it, and flying vehicles are awesome. But I love stars, even though I'd never admit it out loud, and living in a world where you couldn't see them sounded… really horrible. I looked around at all the people flying by in their cars and walking around on the ground, overly accusatory.

"What the hell's wrong with them? Don't they care?" I tilted my head up to look back at the sky. "Don't they miss them?"

Sam and the Doctor were silent for a second, bringing me back a little closer to reality and drawing my attention to them. Sam looked surprised and confused, and the Doctor was watching me sadly.

"No, Dean, they don't miss them." he said finally. "They're still not doing much with their space program yet, and it's been awhile since the stars disappeared. There's no normal person alive now who's seen one."

"That's… so sad."

"I, uh, think there's a car lot over there." Sam broke in a little uncomfortably. It was pretty clear I was freaking him out a bit.

"Right, sorry. Let's go." I revved the engine and we took off in the direction Sam indicated.

Actually driving the bike wasn't really different from driving a regular one, so I allowed my focus to wander. This was awesome. The wind whipped through my hair, the air pleasantly warm. It felt like May, when it's just shy of being hot. Perfect. All the glowing lines became bright, painted streaks of light as they flashed by, kinda like those stop motion pictures of stars wheeling across the sky at night. That was probably why they made them. The stars were gone, and even if they didn't realize it, they missed them.

Police lights came on behind me.

"Shit." I hissed, looking around. How the hell did you pull over if you were flying? Finally I just settled for getting outside the glowing line and hovering there. Close enough, right?

A cop on his own bike pulled up next to me. "What exactly do you two think you're doing?"

"Problem, Officer?" the Doctor asked, pulling up behind us.

"None of your business." the cop snapped, then turned back to me. "You can't have two people on a hover bike unless you're over twenty-one, and you are definitely not."

The Doctor warned me with a look to keep my mouth shut. "Sorry, Officer; he didn't know-"

"I said it's none of your business. This is between me and this assclown."

"Whoa, uncalled for." I knew I was supposed to keep quiet, but I wasn't about to take that lying down. "Besides, if anybody here's an assclown, that would be you."

"Alright, you're under arrest." The cop pulled out a set of handcuffs.

"Insulting an officer became a class A misdemeanor five years ago, young man, and is punishable by up to a year in prison. Now, I said you're under arrest." The cop grabbed my wrist and handcuffed it, then got ahold of my shoulder and tried to twist me around to get the other arm so he could secure my hands behind my back.

"Get your hands off me!" I pulled away, but he grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me towards him hard. Too hard. I lost my balance and fell backwards, my head slamming into the hard metal of the cop's ride, and bright lights exploded in my vision.

I tumbled down through the gap between the floating bikes with a scream.

**_Author's afterthought: Please review, guys! I'm not above bribery, and more reviews means faster updates!_**


	11. Krispy Kreme

_Author's note: Hey, guys! Guess who's sick and is actually over the moon about it because it means I get to stay home?_

_Either way, I did intend to get this chapter to you people a little sooner, but it's been one of the busiest weeks of my life and I haven't had a whole lot of time for writing. Sorry about that. Hope the chapter's up to snuff._

_Either way, enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Supernatural are not mine, I'm just playing with them.**

_**Chapter 11: Krispy Kreme**_

The first thing I was aware of were frantic hands holding me still and checking for my pulse. Not Sammy, the hands weren't small enough…

"Dean." the Doctor's voice came from above me, and one of the hands moved from my throat to cradle the back of my head, lifting it up slightly off the ground. "Dean, c'mon, wake up for me."

I tried to force my eyes open, but I couldn't, and when I tried to move my hand, all I succeeded in doing was twitching my fingers. I was stuck in this twilight zone between conscious and unconscious, and it was scaring me.

"_YOU BASTARD!_" Sam's voice was high pitched and hysterical. "_WHAT DID YOU DO?!_"

"I'm - I'm sorry." A voice I didn't recognize said.

"Dean." A small hand rested on the side of my face, and when Sammy spoke, he sounded like he was going to start crying. "Dean, wake up. Please."

"He'll be alright, Sam." the Doctor said, carefully lifting me up and pulling me against him so I was half in his lap, my head nestled against his shoulder. "I've got a healing bed in the Tardis from a hospital on Zantelas. It'll fix him up, and he'll be perfectly fine."

"His head's bleeding…"

"It'll fix that, too. Don't worry."

"I'm really sorry." the strange voice said again. "I didn't think he was going to fall-"

"Get away from him." Sam snapped.

"Look, just… it was an accident. Please don't report me."

If I could've rolled my eyes, I would've, and something tells me Sam did.

"Drop the charges against him and leave, and we'll forget the whole thing ever happened." the Doctor said.

Yeah, good plan, get him out of here.

There was the roar of a motorcycle taking off, and whoever it was left.

"Okay, let's get him out of here." An arm slid under my knees and another wrapped around my back, and I was gently lifted up, cradled like a child. I couldn't decide whether that made me feel safe or vulnerable.

"Hey, watch it!" Sam said angrily, right before some careless asshole knocked into us, hard. Pain once again exploded through my head, and everything went silent.

XxXxX

I hurt _everywhere_. Every inch of me felt like one big, giant bruise, and the back of my head felt like it'd been split wide open.

"Son of a bitch." I groaned, slowly opening my eyes. I was in a small, dim, metallic room, lying on a soft bed. "The hell?"

"Dean?"

I looked over to the side to find Sammy sitting there, looking anxious. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just sore." I carefully pushed myself into a sitting position, wincing slightly. "Where are we?"

"Some room in the Tardis. The thing is huge."

"Huh." I looked around with a little more interest. Very sci-fi. "Why?"

"Because you needed this alien healing thing." Sam patted the metal side of the bed I was on. It was shaped like a really long oval and made of metal, accept for the soft center where I was. There was an IV-like tube leading from a port on the side of it to where it was injected in the crook of my elbow.

"Cool." I said with a nod. "Why?"

"What d'you mean, 'why'?"

"What happened?"

Sam paused, disconcerted. "You… don't remember?"

I shook my head, mystified. "Is there something I'm supposed to be remembering?"

"Um, it's fine. Everything's fine." I got the sense Sammy was trying to convince himself more than me. "The bed's probably just not done with you yet. You'll be fine."

Okay, fine. I'd just let it slide for now. "Where's the Doc?"

"He said he was going to get breakfast, but I-"

The door opened, interrupting him, and the Doctor walked in, two white paper bags in his hands.

"Oh, good, you're up." He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. "I got enough breakfast for everybody. Best batch of donuts and coffee ever to grace the face of this Earth, courtesy of Krispy Kreme."

"Thanks, Doc." I said as he pulled out some donuts and handed them to Sammy and me, followed by warm cups of coffee. I hadn't realized how friggin hungry I was until I had a donut in front of my face.

"You're feeling better, I see." the Doctor said, smiling in amusement as I pretty much attacked the donut.

I nodded. "Yeah, but I can't remember what happened."

The Doctor shrugged, unconcerned. "You hit your head pretty hard; I'm not surprised. I wouldn't worry about it too much."

"So he's not permanently brain damaged or something?" Sam clarified.

"Well, no more than before." the Doctor said with a laugh.

"You've got a point." I finished my donut and downed the last of my coffee. "So, where're we going now?"

"Are you sure you're ready for that?" Sam asked worriedly. "You almost died earlier."

"Sure, I'm sure." I already felt a lot better than when I'd woken up, the last of the soreness fading into nothing, and I could vaguely remember an angry cop and getting pulled off my bike now. Whatever this bed thing was, we needed to get our hands on one. It would be so useful. Instead of having to rest and recoup for a few days after getting hurt on a hung, we could just get a good night's sleep in this bed and be back on our way to the next job. No more wasting time getting better Maybe there were travel sizes. I'd have to remember to ask the Doctor later.

XxXxX

"You want me to wear what?"

"This." The Doctor shook the white toga in front of my face. "If we're going to ancient Rome, you've gotta look the part."

"There's gotta be people who wore pants. I don't wanna wear a dress."

"C'mon, Dean, think toga party." Sam adjusted the belt on his own new outfit. "Just pretend it's a kegger."

"Besides, you get a cape too." the Doctor said a little too happily, pulling out a green cape with silver edges.

I sighed, looking between them. "I just can't win with the two of you, can I?"

"Not really." Sam agreed with a satisfied smirk. Apparently almost dying the day before didn't earn me any special treatment.

"Fine, I'll wear your stupid dress." I took the clothes and stalked off to the bathroom to change.

"This is nuts." I muttered as I stripped out of my clothes and started pulling on the new ones. "Guys wearing dresses. What self-respecting guy wears a dress? Ancient dudes were weirdos." I fastened the cape around my shoulders and faced the mirror to examine the effect.

All-in-all, it could've been worse. The white toga made it down to my knees, a belt snug around my hips holding it tight in the middle. Fabric only came up over one shoulder, cutting diagonally across my chest. The cape, for some odd reason I don't understand, was cut so that it was fastened off-center, more to the right than to the left, and it only reached my knees too. The leather sandals were actually pretty nice, even though I felt like having laces that got halfway up my calves when all was said and done was a bit over the top.

"It's okay, Dean." I told my reflection. "Think kegger." Steeling myself to be made fun of - because seriously, who could pass up an opportunity like this? - I headed back out to the main room of the Tardis to join the Doctor and Sam.

"Nice cape, Dean." Sam said with a wicked little smirk. "It really matches your eyes."

"Says the one who looks like a cloud." I said condescendingly, and Sammy flushed red. I did have a point, after all. With his white toga and blue cape, he did look like a little cloud. Friggin angel boy.

"Alright, that's enough. You can't see Rome if you stand there insulting each other all day." The Doctor walked over to the door of the Tardis, smiling. "And don't you want to see Rome?"

I shrugged, and we walked over to the door too. Why not? Colosseum and gladiators. How bad can it be?

**_Author's afterthought: Please review, guys! It would mean a lot to me to hear from you._**


	12. Quae est infernum facitis!

_Author's note: Hey, everybody! Sorry it's been awhile, but you know how it goes. It was the holidays, and I took a break from pretty much anything that involved any amount of individual thought. But it's a new year now, so it's time to get back in the swing of things. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. It was kind of tricky for me to write, I'm not sure exactly what my problem was, so if there's stuff wrong with it, I apologize in advance._

**Disclaimer: Neither Supernatural or Doctor Who is mine, I'm just having a little fun.**

_**Chapter 12: Quae est infernum facitis?!**_

"It's really dirty out here." Sam said as we made our way through the crowded streets of Rome.

"Isn't it great?" I smirked and kicked up some of the dust at him.

"Dean!"

"What? Scared to get a little dirty?"

"Boys." the Doctor interrupted. "You're going to miss things if you don't pay attention. Do you see where we are?"

"Oh." So maybe I'd been a little too busy kicking dirt at my brother to notice the Colosseum right in front of my face. These things do happen every now and then.

"Awesome." Sam said breathlessly, staring up at it. He's such a little geek, but he's my little geek, and you've gotta love him.

I looked around at all the people who were leaving the street and flooding in through the entrance of the Colosseum. "So what's going on in there?"

"Gladiators." the Doctor replied.

"Awesome! Let's go take a look!"

"Boys, wait!" the Doctor called after us, but Sam and I were already darting away through the crowd. I grabbed onto Sam's wrist to make sure he didn't get lost and up into the Colosseum we went, jostled and shoved around by the crowd.

I had no idea where we were going, so I just ducked through the first opening I could find, and suddenly we were back in the blazing sun, on the first row of ancient stone bleachers, looking out over the dusty arena.

"Best seats in the house, Sammy-boy." I smirked proudly, leading him right up to the edge and looking down. "We'll have a great view of all the action from here."

"You know, when I say wait, you should wait." the Doctor said, walking up behind us.

"Sorry." Sam's face flushed crimson.

"It's alright. I just worry: there's crazy people out there, and it's difficult to keep you safe if you keep taking off."

"Sorry, Doc." I echoed Sam, offering him my most innocent smile. "Just got excited."

"Yes, you seem to do that a lot." the Doctor said seriously, but I knew he wasn't really upset with us: he was smiling with a little too much fond exasperation for that.

Throwing him one last mischievous smirk, I turned back to face the arena in time to watch the tallest, buffest guy I'd ever seen walk out into the bright sun to thunderous applause. "Oh, I can't wait to see who he's fighting. This is gonna be epic."

"You know, the whole gladiator thing is actually pretty horrible." Sam pointed out.

I glanced at him, confused. "What d'you mean? It's a badass death match. What's not to like?"

"It's barbaric, Dean. I mean, think about it. It's not like they volunteered. They're being forced to fight. Some of them have to kill their friends. I mean, imagine how you would feel if you and I were kidnapped, kept apart, treated brutally, then shoved in an arena and told to go all sudden death on each other for some emperor's entertainment."

I shrugged a little uncomfortably. "Well, when you put it like that…"

The crowd began booing and hissing as a boy who couldn't be more than fourteen walked out into the arena, looking utterly terrified and clutching a small sword and shield like they were a lifeline.

"He's the other guys' sword and shield dude, right?" I asked nervously. "Like an ancient caddie or something?"

"I'm afraid not." the Doctor said, vaguely disgusted as he looked down at the scene in front of him. "If I remember right, that boy was caught stealing food from an overly-important Roman citizen."

The big man smirked and began to advance on the kid - who looked way too much like Sammy for me to feel entirely comfortable - seconds away from ripping him to shreds.

"This is wrong." I said quietly. I couldn't just stand there and let it happen, I had to do something. My mind made up, I climbed over the little partial wall, dangling off by my hands.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing?!" Sam shrieked at the same time that the Doctor shouted "Dean, stop!" They both moved to grab my hands, but it was too late: I'd already let go and dropped to the Colosseum floor, crouching as I hit to absorb the impact. My ankle still wasn't particularly overjoyed with me, but I'm good at working through a little pain.

"Dean, come back!" I heard Sam screaming over the indignant shouts of the crowd, but I ignored him, dashing across the arena and putting myself in between the kid and that giant friggin wall of muscle. I ripped the sword out of his hands and shoved him backwards, turning to face my by far larger opponent.

"Quae est infernum facitis?! Redde mihi eam, podex!" the kid screamed at me in Latin, but for some weird reason that I'm sure had something to do with the Doctor, I understood it in English. What the hell are you doing? Give it back, you asshole!

"Stop whining, I'm saving your ass." I snapped, but I was smiling. He was reminding me more and more of Sammy by the moment.

The kid seemed to realize that I meant business, and he wouldn't be able to stop me from doing whatever the hell it was I felt like, so he backed off to let me do my thing.

The ripped guy just stood there for a second, frowning at me in confusion, then shrugged and continued advanced, hefting his sword. Apparently he didn't care who he fought, as long as he got to fight.

I raised my sword to block his first swing, and I succeeded in not getting split from skull to sternum, but the force of it still knocked me to the ground, my weapon flying out of my hands. I rolled sideways, his sword slamming into the dirt inches from my face, and I scrambled to my feet. I dodged another swing, stepping into the guy's personal space to get rid of the advantage his long weapon gave him, and kicked him in the side of his knee, hard.

A crack of breaking bone split the air and the man's leg buckled. As he fell, he grabbed my arm and yanked me down to the ground with him. He punched me in the face hard - harder than I've ever been punched - and for a second, all I saw was sparks.

Before I had a chance to clear my head, the guy's hands wrapped tightly around my throat. I tried to get loose, but that just wasn't happening, my fingers scrabbling uselessly at his hands and darkness gathering at the edges of my vision. A burning ache spread from the center of my chest until it was all I could feel, and my ears somehow managed to pick out the sound of Sammy screaming my name.

Well, I guess there are worse ways to go.

I don't know how many pairs of hands were suddenly pulling on me, but there were a helluva lot of them. The minute I'd been yanked free of the gladiator's hands, I did my best to fight back against them, gasping for air. Who were these people, why where they grabbing me, what did they want from me, get the hell away…

"Dean. Dean, calm down." All the other hands let go, leaving just one set on my shoulders. "They were helping you, okay? They were helping; stop fighting."

The Doctor. I quite struggling and let him prop me up, breathing heavily in an attempt to feel like I was getting enough air. I was still really light-headed, and I wrapped my hand around the Doctor's wrist, trying to keep myself grounded. A group of Roman soldiers was leading the large gladiator off to an exit, arguing quietly. It must've been their hands I'd felt a moment before.

"C'mon, Dean. Let's go." The Doctor helped me to my feet and led me out of there, back to the door we'd come through when we'd first entered the Colosseum, where Sammy was waiting for us.

"Dean! Are you okay?" Sam asked a little frantically, trying to examine me for injury while we made our way down the streets of Rome, back to the dead-end alley we'd stashed the Tardis in. Everything was fairly quiet, since most of the people were at the Colosseum.

"Yeah, I'm fine." My voice was jacked on about nineteen different levels, and my throat hurt like a bitch, but other than that, I think I mostly managed to carry it off okay. "But I got one question, Doc. How the hell did you get me outta there?"

"Psychic paper, and you're lucky that worked. What were you thinking?"

"I had to do something." I wasn't sure how to explain my thought process, since I'm not sure if there even was much of one. "The whole thing was wrong. I couldn't just stand there.

"You could've." Sam pointed out as we turned the last corner into the alley where we'd left the Tardis, deceptively casual. "You could've just accepted that all this shit already happened and stayed up in the stands, nice and safe, like a sane person."

"You really think you could've stomached that, Sammy? 'Cause that's nice in theory, but let's be real. How long d'you think it woulda been before you decided you had to do something?"

Sam looked away, a little uncomfortable. "Whatever. That doesn't change that it was stupid. You almost died."

"But I didn't. I'm fine."

"Sam's right, Dean." the Doctor broke in. "That was by far too dangerous. Please don't do anything like that ever again."

I opened my mouth to argue my case, even though I had no idea what I was going to say exactly, but then I froze. Something was behind us, I could just feel it. I whipped around, and Sam and the Doctor did too. Neither of them asked why. It was obvious.

That friggin weeping angel was standing at the end of the alley.

It'd been so long since the last time we'd seen it that I'd started to think we'd ditched the stone freak, but I should've known better, doing what I do. When has anyone ever really managed to outrun any of the kinds of fugly sons of bitches that I hunt?

Slowly, we all backed into the Tardis. I slammed the door shut behind us, supremely grateful that we'd been so close to it by the time the angel caught up.

"Doesn't that asshole ever quit?" Sam snapped angrily.

"It doesn't matter." the Doctor said reassuringly. "He's out there, and we're in here. That's what counts. Now, why don't you boys go get in some normal clothes, and I'll find us a good restaurant for dinner?"

Sam and I nodded our assent and went and got changed.

By the time we got back out to the control room, the Doctor had selected a restaurant - some random local place in a suburb of Memphis, I forget the name - and had already teleported us there. Personally, I approved of the initiative. I was starving, and I didn't particularly care what I ate as long as it was food. I walked over to the door and threw it open.

I felt a cold hand close around my wrist, and the world around me disappeared.

Aw shit.

That stupidass angel had hitched a ride.

**_Author's afterthought: Review? Please?_**


	13. Great Just Beautiful

_Author's note: I really don't have much to say at the moment, so I hope y'all enjoy_

**Disclaimer: Neither Supernatural or Doctor Who is mine**

_**Chapter 13: Great. Just Beautiful**_

When the world rematerialized around me, I was sitting on the floor in the aisle of a grocery store. Alone. Terrific.

I climbed to m feet, looking around. I was on the frozen dessert aisle, from the looks of things, though why frozen desserts would get this whole long aisle, I didn't know. They must've just had a whole bunch of ice cream and popsicles around here, I guess. At least I was in a modern time. That was nice. I opened one of the clear glass doors, stole a popsicle out of a package, popped it in my mouth, and headed off to explore the place. Time to figure out where and when I was.

I turned a corner and froze, staring. "What the shit?"

It was so… weird. There was a wall directly across from me that was covered in screens. They looked like what would happen if someone were to take a TV and make it flat and way bigger than normal, and they were all playing part of what looked like a cartoon about a fork with googly eyes and pipe-cleaner arms, but the animation was different from anything I'd ever seen. It was so much more… three dimensional.

And that wasn't the only crazy thing I saw as I started to wander slowly through that section of the store, staring around me in wide-eyed, child-like wonder. There were all these thin cases with pictures on them, and when I busted one out of its plastic wrapping to get a better look, I found this small metal disc-type thing inside. Some of the cases were labeled as a DVD, some said Blu-Ray, some said PS4, some said Digital HD, and tons of other things. Whatever any of that meant.

And what was up with all these racks of teeny little cords? There were some headphones around, and that made sense, I guess, but there were so many other things. Some of them had these teeny little circle-y things on the end, and some of them didn't have anything on them at all, just little metal things. Why have cords with nothing attached? It didn't make any sense.

For the most part, there was some really cool stuff, though. Like the teeniest speakers I'd ever seen, small enough that you could put them in your pocket, and damn, wouldn't that be nice? Obviously this was the future. But how far? I turned to leave the tech behind, telling myself that I wouldn't get so distracted from figuring out where I was anymore.

And promptly got distracted again.

"What the hell even is this?" I muttered, picking up a thin rectangular thing, just the right size for me to hold in my hand. One entire side of it was a screen, encased in… something. It seemed a little tougher than plastic, but I didn't know what else it could be. I squeezed it experimentally, curious if it would bend or break, and felt a small bumpy thing on the side press inward under my palm. With no warning, the screen lit up.

"Holy shit!" I yelped, dropping it.

"Hey, kid, be careful!" an angry voice snapped, and an anxious looking middle-aged man in a blue employee-type vest bustled up to me, picking the thing up off the floor. "These are expensive! You got the money to pay for it?" I could tell by the look on his face that he highly doubted that.

I folded my arms defensively. "Well, so-rry."

"Drop the attitude. You're lucky this didn't break, or you'd be in real trouble." The man placed the thing back on the display. "If you want a new phone, go find something a little cheaper."

"A _phone_?"

The man rolled his eyes and walked away, clearly absolutely done with everything about me.

I turned back to the display, looking at the little black rectangles in a whole new light. Phones? These were _phones_? If they were phones, then why did they have a screen? Screens didn't have jackshit to do with phones.

"See anything you like?" another voice intruded on my thoughts, this one by far more friendly. It was a woman, about twenty years older than me, and I could tell right away that she wasn't an employee. She didn't have a goofy blue vest like the first guy. But then, why was she talking to me? It automatically made me suspicious, but I didn't want her to know that.

I shrugged. "I don't know what's good. My parents haven't let me have one of my own till now."

"You have those kinds of parents, huh?" The woman came over to stand a little closer to me than I was particularly comfortable with, but at least my lie was plausible. I'd been a little worried it wouldn't make sense. "Don't worry, I'll help you."

I nodded with a smile. "Thanks."

She smiled back at me, offering her hand. "I'm Jessica, by the way."

"Dean." Jessica held onto my hand a little longer than I felt was strictly necessary, but maybe that was just me and my serious issues with the vast majority of physical contact.

"So, I would stay away from Apple, personally: they're pretentious bastards with overpriced stuff. I prefer Samsung." She led me around the bed to another display of phones. "Here's a bunch of Galaxies. You should get one of these." She grabbed one of them and placed it in my hand.

"I mean, if you say so…"

"Well, I mean, seriously. This will last so much longer than those stupid I-phones, I promise." Jessica placed her hand on the back of mine so that she was 'holding' the phone too and turned it on. She shifted so that our hips were touching. "And besides, there are subtle differences between every kind of phone, and this is the one I'm most familiar with, so I can teach you how to use it."

Man, this chick was pushy. See? Weird shit like this is what happens when you let yourself get distracted.

"Well, thanks for the advice and all, but I really oughta go…" I started to edge away, but her arm darted out and snaked around my waist, pulling me back towards her.

"No, stay." She leaned in to whisper in my ear. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Okay." I pushed her away from me and took a couple steps back. "That's enough of that. I have standards, and you're a creep. And don't think I didn't notice your wedding ring."

Jessica flushed slightly and hid her left hand behind her back.

"If you wanna go out and bang boys young enough to be your son, I suggest you ditch that."

Jessica raised an eyebrow. "If I did, would you -"

"Oh, shut up." I shook my head and walked away, dropping the phone - a Galaxy? - in a $5 bin of those little disc cases. I was sick of those things and I was sick of that lady and I was sick of this store. I needed to get out of here, go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

It took me a minute, since the place was so friggin huge, but I eventually managed to find the exit and walked out into the parking lot. The cold, dark, rainy parking lot.

"Great." I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself and cursing my decision to only wear a t-shirt. "Just beautiful."

I glanced back at the store. Walmart. Really? Shaking my head, I turned and started off down the street.

It was late. I wasn't sure how late, but everything was very empty and very quiet. I was looking for a way to get arrested, since that was how the Doctor found us before, but it was kinda hard to get arrested when there wasn't anybody around to see me break the law. I should've just robbed the Walmart, but I'd been too distracted by how uncomfortable Jessica had made me feel and how much I'd just wanted to _get out_. Something about that place had felt all wrong to me, and there was no way I was going back now.

It was another hour or so before I gave up and found a small tree to hide under. I was soaked to the bone and shivering so violently that it _hurt_, and I just couldn't keep this up. I didn't have much choice but to hide out until morning. It was still wet under the tree, but I didn't much care at this point.

Trying to conserve body heat and stop shaking, I curled up in the mud to wait for dawn.

XxXxX

"Sweetheart? Are you alright?" A hand was on my shoulder, gently trying to wake me.

It was hard - I was so damn tired, and so cold - but I managed to force my eyes open to look at whoever it was that was bothering me.

A middle-aged woman was crouched down next to me, concern painted all over her features.

"Who - who are you?" I mumbled, still shivering a bit, even though I was more numb at this point than anything.

"It's alright. I'm here to help you." the woman said soothingly, helping me sit up. "You're freezing. How long have you been out here?"

I gave her a half-hearted shrug. It wasn't like I had any idea.

"Here." The woman took off her black jacket and wrapped it around me. "Let's see if we can't get you warmed up a bit. I'm Elizabeth, by the way. What's your name?"

"D-Dean."

She smiled at me kindly. "It's nice to meet you, Dean. Can I give you a ride home? Or do you need to go to the hospital?"

I shook my head, pulling away from her slightly. No way was I getting in a car with a complete stranger when I was in this kind of condition.

"Okay." she said quickly, holding her hands up and away from me reassuringly. "It's alright. I didn't mean to scare you. Is there anyone I can call to come get you?"

I shook my head again.

"Well, sweetie, I can't just leave you out here. What do you want me to do for you?"

"Nothing. Th-thanks, but I'm okay." I shoved her jacket back towards her, focusing hard on not shivering so much.

Her hand reached out and caught my wrist, a suspicious gleam in her eyes as she looked more closely at my forearm. I winced slightly, realizing what she saw. There was a perfect bracelet of purple bruises where the gladiator had grabbed me to pull me down.

I jerked out of her grip and folded my arms protectively, hiding them from sight.

"Darling, why are you out here?" Elizabeth asked.

"No re-reason." I said defensively, now painfully aware of the blue bruise splashed across my cheekbone from when the gladiator punched me and supremely grateful my jeans hid the bruising on my knees from when his first blow had forced me to the ground.

"Sweetheart…"

She reached out to touch my cheek, trying to get a better look at the bruise there, and I quickly turned my head to the side so she couldn't get to it, unintentionally baring the side of my throat.

"Oh, my goodness." she breathed. Shit. When I was getting changed in the Tardis earlier, I'd seen that there were black, finger-shaped bruises littering my throat from the gladiator strangling me, and I could tell by the look on her face that they were the final nail in my coffin. "Who did this to you?"

"No one." I insisted, keeping my gaze on the ground.

"Somebody in your family?"

"No."

"Was it your father?"

"No!" I snapped quickly. A little too quickly for her.

"Honey, it's alright." Her voice was gentle and calming, but I could detect a steely undertone of anger in it. "I work with CPS. I can help you."

I was about to retort when an idea popped into my head. The Doctor had been able to find us before because being arrested put us on some kind of official record. Wouldn't winding up in the system have the same effect? Seemed worth a shot.

I kicked my puppy dog eyes up to eleven, looking uncertainly up at Elizabeth through my eyelashes. "Promise?"

"Yes, sweetie, I promise. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore." She offered me her hand.

I bit my lip for a second, pretending to be scared, then took it. "Okay. If you promise."

**_Author's afterthought: Please review, guys: it makes me happier than it really has any right to. It always makes my day._**


	14. Double Whammy

_Author's note: Not a whole lot to say at the moment. Hope you enjoy the chapter._

**Disclaimer: Neither Supernatural or Doctor Who are mine**

_**Chapter 14: Double Whammy**_

"If you'll just take a seat on the couch there, Dean, somebody will be in to speak with you in a minute." Elizabeth gave me an encouraging smile from the doorway while I sat down, uncomfortable in the small room. For whatever reason, once the social worker people had gotten me all cleaned up and warm and fed, they wanted me to talk to somebody so they could get a read on me.

Yeah, I was _totally_ over the moon about that.

"Thanks." I said, since it was pretty clear Elizabeth expected me to say something before she left.

She smiled even brighter and nodded at me before backing out of the room and quietly closing the door. I got up off the couch and started examining the things around the room, partially out of curiosity, partially because I wanted to have a good handle on what could be used as a weapon.

A snow globe with an Eiffel Tower inside. That was a double whammy. I could break the glass over someone's head, then stab them with the tower.

A mug of pens and pencils. Tons of potential there. I could stab them in the eye or the throat. Endless possibilities. I could break the mug over their head too.

Of course, I could smash somebody's temple into the corner of one of these little wall shelves. You didn't have to be holding something for it to be a weapon.

You know, it was moments like these that I realized that any normal human being who knew what was going through my head would think that I was an absolute psychopath. But whatever. They just didn't get it. Back to business.

There was a nail holding up that calendar, there were so many things I could do with -

Wait. A calendar. A calendar could tell me what year it was. I walked over for a closer look.

The year wasn't on the pages with the months, so I took the calendar down to see the cover. 2020. A whole 25 years into the future. Huh. I started flipping through the pictures, curious. It was a Star Wars themed calendar, and while there were some pictures I recognized, there were a whole bunch that I didn't. I turned back to the front. In little white letters at the bottom, it said _Featuring scenes from all three trilogies!_

Damn. Looked like they had gotten around to making more after all. A lot more.

"You a Star Wars fan?" a voice came from behind me. I jumped and spun around. A smiling blonde woman, I'd say she was in her mid-twenties, was standing there, a clipboard in her hands. "I'm sorry: I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine." I set the calendar down on one of the shelves a little self consciously.

"It's alright if you want to look at that." She nodded at the calendar, a little too perceptive for my taste.

I shook my head. "I'm done."

"Well, would you like to come take a seat?"

I nodded and went back to where I'd been sitting before, and the woman grabbed a chair from the corner and sat down facing me. "So, Dean, how are you?"

I folded my arms protectively and sat back on the couch, doing my best to appear unconcerned. "Kinda gives you an unfair advantage that you know my name, and I don't know yours."

The woman raised an eyebrow at my word choice, jotting something down on her clipboard. "I'm Ashley."

"I don't get your full name, then?"

"Well, I don't actually have your full name, Dean: you haven't given it to us. So how about this. I'll tell you mine if you'll tell me yours."

I shrugged. "Alright."

Ashley smiled slightly. "Me first, huh? That's okay. My full name is Ashley Winona Carpenter."

"Dean Winchester." I didn't see any harm in being honest, and besides, a deal's a deal.

"No middle name?"

I blushed. Not gonna lie, that was actually a bit of a sore spot with me. "I do have one. I just… don't know what it is."

Ashley nodded, writing on her clipboard again. "Why don't you know what it is?"

I shrugged uncomfortably. "My dad never uses it, and I ain't about to ask."

"And your mom?"

"She's dead."

Ashley looked up from her clipboard, her eyes sad. "I'm sorry. How old were you?"

"I was four." My voice was cold and sharp. I knew she wasn't trying to be a problem, but Mom just wasn't something I talked about. Ever. At all.

"I'm so sorry, Dean. What happened?"

"Fire." Monosyllables. Monosyllables were good. Discouraged conversation.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about that just yet. We can talk about something else." Ashley shifted in her seat to get more comfortable, flipping the page on her clipboard so she'd have a blank piece of paper ready. "But before we really get started, Dean, I want you to promise me something. Can you do that?"

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Maybe."

"Can you promise that you'll be completely honest with me? No half truths, no lies. This isn't going to do anybody any good if you're not."

I hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, sure." It wasn't like it was that big of a deal. I'd been planning to mostly tell her the truth anyway, since it was easier than fabricating a whole life. I'd just modify where needed.

Well, no need for modifying on this one. "Yeah. One of his favorite activities."

"Does it make him behave differently?"

"No shit." I laughed. "Everybody acts different when they're drunk."

Ashley smiled wryly. "I was referring to violence, Dean."

"Well, I mean, so what if he does? It's not like he means it." I needed to drag this out, give the Doctor and Sam time to find me. And besides, for some weird, deep-seated reason, I felt this need to defend my dad.

Ashley smiled sadly. "You love your dad very much, don't you?"

I glared back at her and didn't respond. This was supposed to be a simple conversation about facts; my feelings - especially my feelings for my family - weren't supposed to be hauled into this.

"It's alright if you do: people who don't know much about this kind of thing might think it's strange and that there must be something wrong with you, but there are a lot of kids in your kind of situation that feel that way."

"Why do you care how I feel about my dad?"

"Well, it's very important to you, isn't it? It affects the things you want and your choices."

"So?"

Ashley nodded quietly to herself, writing a bit more on her clipboard. "Has your father always treated you badly?"

"No."

"Did he start after your mother died?"

I shrugged. "Ish, I guess."

"And what was that transition like?"

I bit my lip. I'd never talked to anybody about this before, but I had promised myself that I'd be as honest as possible. "It was… it was like losing both of my parents at once, then being asked to live with a scary, drunk, angry stranger, and love him."

"And did you?"

"Of course. He's still my dad, just with a few more issues. He needed me to help him. Still does."

"Help him with what?"

"Everything. He's still really upset, and he needs somebody else to handle the little every day things so he can focus on fixing it. I've gotta help him feel better."

"And you would be willing to do anything, and to let him do anything, in order to make that happen?"

"Yes." I said firmly. "Yes, I would."

"Including letting him hurt you? Is that something that makes him feel better?"

I didn't meet her eyes, speaking quietly to my hands instead. "If that's what it takes."

"Why do you think that 'helps' him, Dean?"

"He's teaching me. He needs to know that he can count on me to do exactly as I'm told every single time, and that I understand there are consequences if I don't. It gives him peace of mind, lets him know he doesn't need to worry."

"Worry about you?"

I shook my head. "No. Just… a lot of stuff. But it's gonna be fine. Soon, I'll have it all under wraps; everything will be okay again. And he'll be proud of me."

XxXxX

Not that I was a big fan of being left in the room alone, but I gotta say, I was pretty friggin relieved when Ashley left. She was a cool chick and everything, and I knew she was just doing her job and wanted to help me, but that didn't mean we hadn't just had a supremely uncomfortable conversation. It was all a little too close to the truth for my taste.

But whatever. Now that they had my full name, they would put me in their stupid little system or something, and the Doctor and Sam would be able to come get me. It wasn't that 2020 totally sucked or anything, but I was beyond ready to jet.

The door opened and I smiled brightly when Sam and the Doctor walked in. Speak of the devil.

"Guys!" I got up off the couch. "Shit, am I glad to-"

Sammy dashed across the room and rammed into me so hard that he knocked me right back down, effectively cutting me off with one of those aggressive hugs only a scared little brother can give.

"I missed you too, Sammy." I said with a laugh.

Sam just buried his face in my shoulder and stayed quiet, shaking slightly.

"Are you alright?" the Doctor asked, coming over to stand next to us.

I threw him a reassuring smile. "I'm great, Doc. 110%."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure; don't worry about me. In fact, I found some pretty cool stuff. I showed up at this Walmart, and you wouldn't believe-"

"Dean." Sam broke in, looking up at me with those sad little eyes of his. "Can we just go?"

I smiled softly. "Sure thing, Sammy. Let's get outta here."

"Who the hell are you?" a woman's voice interrupted, and we all turned to find Elizabeth and Ashley standing in the doorway.

Caught off guard, we all just sat there staring for a second.

"Dean. Who are they?" Ashley asked again while Elizabeth turned and hurried off.

Not good.

"I'm his uncle." the Doctor said, stepping forward. "I've been looking for him since he ran out of the house last night. The little one is my son."

Ashley raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, and looked back over at Sammy and me. Her eyes narrowed slightly, then realization flashed across her face. "He's your brother. Why didn't you tell me you have a brother?"

My arm tightened slightly around Sammy, but I stayed silent, for once doing as I'd been repeatedly told and letting the Doctor handle it.

"I already told you." he said, cutting in. "I'm his uncle, and that's my son."

"Oh, bullshit. That's clearly his little brother; you're a liar. Are you their father?" Ashley turned back to face me. "Is this your father?"

"No!" I said quickly. "No way, he's-"

Elizabeth and three policemen pushed their way into the room, cutting me off.

"That's their father; arrest him." Ashley said, pointing at the Doctor.

"Wait, no-" I stood up and started forward, but one of the cops grabbed me while the other two grabbed the Doctor and cuffed him. The cop that had ahold of me had to put me in a friggin full-nelson to keep me from getting loose, but that sure as hell didn't keep me from trying.

"Wait." Sammy ducked through the people and planted himself in front of the door. "Please, stop. He hasn't done anything; this is all just a big misunderstanding."

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Ashley asked.

"Sam."

"Well, Sam, I think if you looked at your brother, you'd find that your father's done quite a lot he needs to answer for."

"But he's not our dad." Sam said imploringly.

"Leave him alone." I snapped.

Ashley looked sadly over at me and the cop struggling in the corner while the other cops led the Doctor over to the door. "I'm sorry, Dean. I know your father means a lot to you, but that doesn't excuse what he's done to you."

"It's not like that!"

"It's going to be okay, boys." the Doctor said reassuringly. "I'll fix it; everything's going to be fine."

"Move it, you abusive asshole. You don't have any right to talk to those boys." The cops shoved the Doctor through the door and out of the room. The other cop let go of me and headed out the door too, closing it on the way. I just knelt there on the ground staring after them.

Sam came over and knelt down too, putting his arms around me in silence.

"Ah, hell." I whispered. "What'd I do?"

**_Author's afterthought: Please review, guys! I know y'all are reading, and it would make me ridiculously happy to hear your thoughts!_**


	15. Guillotine During the French Revolution

_Author's note: Hey, guys. Sorry it's been a little longer than usual, but I do have good reason. First of all, psychoanalyzing all of Dean's interaction with that CPS lady was a lot more time consuming than I thought it was going to be. Second of all, I took the ACT yesterday, and I had to put at least some time and energy into preparing for that. But now it's over and done with, and hopefully things can get back to a more normal timetable._

_Not gonna lie, I kinda feel like this is a crappy chapter in comparison to the rest of this story, but I wanted to get you guys something, and I enjoy analyzing the hidden and not-so-hidden meanings behind people's behavior a little more than the average person, so bare with me. Sorry if you don't like this one, but I get it if you don't, and I promise the next one will be better._

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and Doctor Who are property of their respective owners and not me**

_**Chapter 15: A Guillotine During the French Revolution**_

"If I'd just kept my mouth shut-"

"Dean-"

"I should've found another way-"

"Dean, c'mon-"

"But I'm incapable, so of course I screwed it up-"

"Dean! Stop!"

I shut my mouth but continued pacing the small room they'd put Sammy and me in for the night, raking a hand through my hair in frustration.

"Dean, you can't beat yourself up about this." Sam said plaintively, looking up at me from the bed farthest from the door where he was sitting. "It's not your fault."

I scoffed. "Like shit. You were there, you saw what happened. How was any of that _not _my fault?"

"It wasn't anybody's fault, Dean. it was all just one big misunderstanding."

"Yeah, a big misunderstanding because _I_ was being a _stupid idiot_."

"There was no way you could've known what was gonna happen." Sam grabbed my arm as I passed him and pulled me down to sit on the bed too. "Things just go south sometimes."

"Yeah, they go south. With a little help from me."

"Dean-"

"But whatever." I continued, cutting him off. "Let's focus on something productive, like getting out of here."

"How? They've got a guy outside the door and a dowel nailed into the window frame."

"We could break the window."

"They'd hear it. Face it, Dean; we're stuck."

I grabbed the pillow and threw it at the wall, but it wasn't nearly satisfying enough. "Then what d'you wanna do?"

"Wait it out. The Doctor will bust out soon and come get us."

"I don't wanna just sit here with our thumbs up our asses: he might need our help."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Dean, in all of the admittedly short time we've known him, has he ever once needed our help?"

"Well, no." I mumbled.

"So…" Sam shrugged as if to say there was nothing else to add.

"It's my mess, Sam. I'm kind of obligated to do what I can to fix it."

Sam sighed, pressing his palms against his eyes. "Dean, it's midnight. If you really feel like this is your mess to clean up, can you please do it tomorrow? It'll be easier to get away when we're not stuck in this room anyhow."

"Okay, Sammy." I agreed heavily after a second's hesitation. He did have a point. They'd have to let us out of this room tomorrow, and it would definitely be easier to get away then.

XxXxX

"I feel like this plan really backfired." I said casually, reclining my car seat back until I was practically horizontal. "I mean, this has gone in a completely different direction than I was originally imagining."

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Dean." Sam grumbled, arms folded and glaring out the window.

"Hey, it ain't like I'm calling you out or anything: I agreed to the plan too. We're equally at fault here."

"Do you have a better plan, genius?"

"Well," I said thoughtfully, "jumping out of the car did cross my mind, but since we're going about 70 mph, that seems like a _really_ bad idea."

Sam rolled his eyes and stayed silent.

"Boys," Ashley interrupted, twisting around to look at us in the passenger seat, "I know this isn't exactly what you had in mind, but it's just until we find a place that's a good fit for the two of you. The Carsons are great foster parents; you're going to love them."

XxXxX

"For the millionth time, I'm Dean's uncle, not his father, and Sam is my son." the Doctor said exasperatedly, leaning back in his chair. "And I would never hurt either of them."

"Mr. Winchester-"

"Campbell. I'm his mother's brother."

"Fine, then, Mr. _Campbell_, take me through your story again." the man across from the Doctor said, his tone making it clear that he doubted he'd hear anything that would change his mind. "I'm still a little fuzzy on exactly what you're claiming happened."

The Doctor managed not to roll his eyes, but it sure as hell wasn't easy. "I already told you. There's been something off with my brother-in-law ever since Mary died, but I never dreamed he'd do anything to Dean. My son and I were over visiting, and Dean and John got into a fight. Dean ended up running out of the house, and Sam and I have been looking for him ever since: we were worried about him being out on his own in the middle of the night."

"Yeah, okay." The man shook his head slightly, popping his gum. "Let's try the truth this time, shall we?"

The Doctor leaned forward, a little angry now. "Look, what exactly is it that I'm being accused of here?"

The man opened a file, smiling a little wolfishly. "Well, let's see here. Child abuse, obviously, probably multiple counts. It says here that the information Dean Winchester gave CPS and his responses - both verbal and nonverbal - to certain questions and situations suggest prolonged abuse."

The Doctor paused for a moment, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. Dean was a good actor, no question, but he didn't think he was that good. "Does the analysis get any more in depth than that?"

The cop raised an eyebrow. "Why're you asking? Wanna see just how much damage you did?"

The Doctor didn't respond but just sat there waiting for an answer, his expression stony. Yes, he wanted to understand just how much damage John Winchester had done to the sweet, green-eyed boy he'd accidentally allowed himself to care about.

The man flipped through the file until he found the page he wanted. "Here's what the therapist who went in to talk to him, Miss Carpenter, had to say: 'Dean's overly tense, as if constantly expecting somebody to attempt to do him harm in some way. He's at the very least self-conscious, if not ashamed, at being caught looking at something which interests him that he didn't ask explicit permission to touch. He clearly doesn't consider it safe or acceptable to be afraid and makes a visible effort to appear unconcerned at all times. He doesn't like it when someone knows more about him than he knows about them, and making sure nobody else has an 'unfair advantage' over him seems to be one of his major concerns, which suggests that there is someone that he feels has one and abuses it. He's very open and responsive to the concept of deal making; you do something for me, and I'll do something for you. This leads me to think that he believes that everything has a catch." The man looked up at the Doctor. "Proud of yourself yet?"

"Just keep going." If the Doctor was going to abandon John Winchester in a guillotine during the French Revolution, he wanted to know exactly why he'd be doing it.

The man rolled his eyes and continued reading. "He doesn't know his own middle name, which clearly upsets him. He said it's because his father never uses it, and he isn't willing to ask, which makes it apparent that not only is he afraid of his father, but he relies on what his father says for a sense of identity and purpose. His mother died in a fire when he was four, and he refuses to talk about it, which suggests that nobody helped him work through it in a healthy way - or much of any way - and he still hasn't been able to move past it. He doesn't give his word until he knows all the details of what's being asked of him, which suggests that he's been manipulated into doing things he didn't want to on the grounds that 'he agreed'." The man looked up from the file again. "You're a real sicko, you know that?"

"Kind of you to say. Keep reading." the Doctor snapped, his hands curled into fists under the table.

The man shook his head in disgust and went back to the file. "His father drinks a lot, and Dean doesn't blame him for the resultant violence. Instead, he seems to think it's normal and that it's not even wrong, just to be expected when alcohol's involved. He's defensive of his father and loves the man very much, which he's also incredibly defensive about. He has an intense loyalty hang up, so when his father began to mistreat and abuse him after his mother's death, he just took it, chalking it up to his father having a hard time handling things. He feels that it's his responsibility to be the closest thing in the household to a fully functioning adult, and he's willing to do anything and let his father do anything in order to make that man happy, including hurting Dean, if that's what it takes. He says his father hurts him in order to teach him the consequences of falling short of absolute perfection, and he thinks it's totally warranted. It seems that, more than anything, Dean just wants his father to be proud of him."

Yeah, okay, clearly just abandoning John in a guillotine wasn't gonna cut it; the Doctor would have to come up with something else later. But one thing was for certain. There was no way in hell he was going to let those boys ever go back to the way things had been before.

**Author's note: Please review! It makes my day. Constructive criticism is totally welcome, as always.**


	16. Not Dying Just Drugged

_Author's note: Sup, guys. Not a whole lot to say at the moment, but I do like this chapter better than I liked the last one, so I hope y'all enjoy it!_

**Disclaimer: Supernatural and Doctor Who do not belong to me**

_**Chapter 16: Not Dying. Just Drugged.**_

"This will be your room while you're here." Mrs. Carson said with a smile, opening the door at the end of the hall. She seemed like a nice enough lady, but the fact that she was currently our 'foster mom' kind of made me hate her right off the bat. I already had a mom; I didn't need another one.

"Thanks, Mrs. Carson." Sammy said, always polite.

"Oh, you can call me Shelese, dear. I"ll just leave you two get get situated. Dinner's in thirty minutes, alright? My husband's away on a business trip, but we should have a good time all the same." She smiled again and headed down the hallway out of sight.

"Okay, let's go." I crossed the little blue bedroom and yanked the window open.

"Dean, what're you doing?" Sam asked.

"Um, getting out of here. Obviously. Move it or lose it."

"Dean…" Sam bit his lip nervously "Maybe we should stay."

Well, talk about getting taken off guard. "What in the name of all that is holy could possibly have made you think that's a good idea?"

"Just so the Doctor can find us."

"You know, _we_ could go find _him_ this time."

"And then what?" Sam sat down on the bed farthest from the door. "Get ourselves thrown in juvie for attempting a jailbreak?"

"At least we'll have done something." I snapped.

Sam sighed. "Look, Dean, I know you don't like waiting, but sometimes the best way to do something is to be patient."

I flopped back on the bed next to him, practically growling in frustration. "How can you stand this?"

"Sometimes you need to have a little faith, Dean."

"Oh yeah, sure, Sammy. 'Cause that's been oh so successful in the past."

Sam glared down at me, frustrated now too. "Well, you know, your attitude's not helping anything either."

"Oh, _my_ attitude?" I got up angrily, taking advantage of my height. "Because you're always such a ray of friggin sunshine?"

"More than you!"

"Really?" I pitched my voice an octave higher to imitate him. "'We have to move again? But I wanted to go to Greg's birthday party!' 'If we have mac and cheese one more time, I'm gonna puke. I'd rather starve and die.' 'I don't wanna go on a hunt, though: I've got homework!' 'Shut up, Dean, you're not my dad. Who died and left you in charge?'"

Sam shot to his feet too. "That's not fair!"

"Well, maybe it's escaped your notice, princess, but life ain't fair!"

"Don't you dare lecture me on having a rough life! We've been living the same one!"

"Oh, yeah totally!" I scoffed. "Nothing different about our experiences at all!"

"My life sucks just as bad as yours!"

"You know what? Go fu-"

"Excuse me." a woman's voice interrupted, and we both whipped around to find Shelese standing hesitantly in the doorway. "Sorry to… um… interrupt, but dinner's ready."

"Great." I shouldered my way past Sam and stalked out the door. "Let's eat."

XxXxX

It was a nice bedroom, honestly. It was just the right size for two people to coexist peacefully without getting in each other's space, and the window faced North, so there'd still be light, but you wouldn't get blinded at certain times of day. And the bed was _so friggin soft_, better than anything I could really remember ever sleeping in.

I hated it. With everything I had, I hated it.

And Sam could tell. We spent the first several hours after lights out - excuse me, _bedtime_ \- in tense silence, me curled up on my side and facing the closed door instead of him. I knew that my anger and frustration was rolling off of me in waves, and I knew it was putting Sam on edge, but I just didn't have it in me to care.

It was about one in the morning when Sammy finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly behind me.

"It's okay, kiddo."

"So, you're not mad at me?"

I sighed and rolled over to face him. "No. I never was, really. This is all just so…" I tried, but I couldn't find a word strong enough to get across how much this bothered me.

"I know." Sam said, nodding reassuringly. "It's getting to me too. But we can handle this."

"I just wish we had a plan, y'know? I always feel so much better when I've got a plan."

"We do have a plan. Just… not a very active one."

I laughed under my breath and rolled over to look at the ceiling. "Look, Sammy -" I cut myself off, paused, and took a breath. "Sam. I'm sorry about earlier. That stuff I said, it wasn't fair. You didn't deserve that."

"It's okay, Dean. I know you didn't mean it. And… it's okay if you still wanna call me Sammy… sometimes."

I smiled softly. "Sleep good, Sammy."

"You too, De."

XxXxX

Waking up to the smell of bacon the next morning caught me so off guard that, for a second, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

"Sammy." I mumbled, still not quite awake. "Smell that?"

"Mmm hmm." he hummed happily.

"We should go get some."

"Yeah."

We laid there for another second.

"That would involve getting up, wouldn't it."

"Yeah."

I rolled out of bed with a sigh. Even with bacon waiting, it still sucked when it was time to get up and face the day.

Five minutes later, Sammy and I clattered into the kitchen/dining room and parked it at the table.

"Well, good morning." Shelese said, placing two plates in front of us like she'd just been waiting for the smell to bring us out of our room. "Did you boys sleep well?"

"Yeah. It's a really nice room." Sam said with a sincere smile while I just dug into my pancakes and bacon. If the kid wanted to talk and play nice, that was his business. I was hungry.

I was about halfway through my food when I paused, confused. My head was starting to feel fuzzy; something wasn't right here. "Sammy, stop."

Sam froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. "What?"

Shelese rolled her eyes. "You just had to go and ruin all the fun." She waved her hand and said a weird word in a language I didn't know, and Sam passed out cold. I tried to get up, but the next thing I knew, I was on the ground.

"You bitch." I slurred, the edge of my vision starting to go black. "Wha'd y'do?"

Shelese simply smiled down at me.

In the end, it didn't matter how hard I tried to keep my eyes open.

XxXxX

Sam was startled back to consciousness by a door slamming shut. Groaning slightly at the headache pounding in his temples, he sat up and took stock of his situation.

He was on the ground in a small room made entirely of cement - floor, walls, and ceiling - with one flickering lightbulb dangling overhead and a heavy metal door set into one side. There was a small, barred window towards the top of the door, and the room was entirely empty except for -

His older brother sprawled out on the floor, still and silent.

"Dean!" Even though it made his head spin, Sammy scrambled over to him. "Dean, say something!"

Nothing.

"Don't you dare do this to me." Sam snarled, doing his best to keep his movements calm and measured as he checked for Dean's pulse.

There. Faster and more irregular than it should be, though. Sam checked Dean's eyes. Dilated pupils.

Okay. Not dying. Just drugged.

Sam sat back on his heels, breathing a sigh of relief. Drugged he could deal with, even if there wasn't much he could do besides sit here with his brother and make sure he wasn't alone when he woke up.

Feeling like he was going to start crying, Sammy gently took his big brother's hand and settled in to wait.

XxXxX

It was a slow climb back to consciousness, like pushing my way up through suffocating layers of cotton, but eventually I became aware of a cold, hard surface underneath me and somebody's hand in mind. Instinctively, I knew it was Sam's, and I tightened my grip reassuringly.

"Dean? You with me?" Sammy's voice sounded far away, but I somehow managed to follow it back to reality and forced my eyes open to find him crouched over me, concern painted all over his face.

"Hey, kiddo." I sighed as he helped me sit up against the wall.

"You okay?" Sammy tried to put a hand on my forehead, but I batted it away impatiently.

"It ain't like I've got a fever, dude; I'm fine. Just a little fuzzy."

After a second's hesitation, he nodded and sat down next to me. "Dean… what happened? I mean, one second, we're at the table eating breakfast, and the next, we're in here."

"Shelese is a sketchy whore, that's what happened. She put something in the food, and when she waved her hand and said something weird, you were down and out for the count."

"Sounds like a witch to me."

I let my head fall back against the wall, frustrated. "Does weird shit just follow us around?"

"Looks like." Sam leaned his head on my shoulder, absentmindedly chewing his nails. "Dean, what're we gonna do?"

Honestly? I had no idea. Things looked pretty damn bad from where I was sitting. But I couldn't just say that: Sammy clearly needed me to be invincible big brother just then. "We'll think of something, just like we always do. Don't worry, Sammy: I'll fix it."

**_Author's afterthought: Well, I hope you enjoyed! Please review! It makes me way happier than it probably has any right to when I hear from you guys._**


	17. We Touched Down Mid-Apocalypse

_Author's note: Holy shit, guys. Sorry this has taken so long, but what with this whole Coronavirus thing, my schedule's been all out of whack. Either way, here's another chapter for y'all. I'm pretty sure it's a little shorter than usual, but I figured you guys would prefer to have something now instead of waiting. Either way, I hope you like it._

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Supernatural**

_**Chapter 17: We Touched Down Mid-Apocalypse**_

It'd taken a long time to figure out what in this bare room could be used as a weapon, but eventually I settled on the lightbulb and got Sam up on my shoulders so he could unscrew it. I mean, it sucked that we couldn't see jackshit, but at least we had something to fight with next time Shelese showed up, however pitiful a weapon it might be. Once we had it, we just sat there in the dark, waiting for our chance.

"I told you we should've left last night." I said.

Even though I couldn't see Sam, I could practically feel him glaring at me. "You really wanna fight right now?

"No. I just wanted to say I told you so."

"Well, congratulations. You were right, I was wrong. Happy?"

"Very."

Before Sam got the chance to respond, we were silenced by the sound of footsteps coming towards us. Without a word, we stationed ourselves on either side of the door.

The second Shelese walked in, I jumped on her, wrapping an arm around her neck, and smashed the lightbulb over her head. She stumbled, startled and disoriented, and I decided to make use of the opening by ramming the jagged remains of the lightbulb into her throat. Blood poured out over my hands as I twisted it for good measure and tore it free. I took a step back, allowing her to fall to the ground, and let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"All things considered, that could've gone a lot worse." I led Sam out into a dimly lit hallway. "Imagine if she'd turned me into a rat or something."

"It would've been an improvement." Sam said without missing a beat, and we headed off down the hallway together. There were doors to other cells like ours, but they were all empty, and before long, we came to the bottom of a rickety staircase with a trapdoor at the top.

"Do you think we're still in the same house?" Sam asked.

I shrugged. "I don't see why not. Wouldn't be very convenient to move us." I went to start up the stairs, but Sam grabbed my arm to stop me.

"Dean, we can't just go around making noise."

"Why not? The bitch is dead."

"Isn't she supposed to have a husband?"

That was fair. Just because we had yet to see the guy didn't mean he didn't exist. "Okay, then we'll run around being quiet."

Sam rolled his eyes but didn't argue, so we carefully made our way up the stairs and through the trap door. We came out in the pantry.

"Awesome." I grabbed a pack of Oreos off the shelf and headed out into the rest of the house, eating them and ignoring Sam's protests behind me. I was hungry, damn it, and I didn't much care who the food originally belonged to.

We found the witch-bitch's husband in the front room, sleeping in a recliner. "Oh, this is just too damn easy." I said, looking down at him and sticking another Oreo in my mouth.

Sam shifted uneasily. "Dean, maybe we should just leave him alone."

"That's ridiculous. Here, hold these." I handed him the Oreos, grabbed the fire poker, and kicked the guy in the leg. "Up and at em, asshole."

He jerked awake, looking up at us in surprise. "You must be Sam and Dean." he said after a moment. "I was wondering where you and Shelese got off to."

"Don't play dumb." I said coolly, raising the fire poker to be level with his throat.

The guy's eyes widened when he caught sight of the blood coating my hand. "Where's my wife?"

"She's dead."

For a moment, he just sat there in stunned silence. "Why would you do that?"

My eyes narrowed. "I think you know."

"You don't understand." The man glanced around desperately as if expecting someone to come to his rescue. "She said she'd kill me if I tried to stop her."

"You're telling me that you care more about your own damn skin than who knows how many kids, and you expect me to feel bad for you?" I said in disgust.

"She would've killed them anyway. At least this way she's got one less murder on her hands."

For a second, I just stood there staring at him. "I don't even know how to respond to that."

XxXxX

"Did you really have to drag him all the way downstairs and lock him in one of the cells? You'd already knocked him out." Sam said as we made our way down the street.

"Yes."

"You do realize he'll probably starve and die."

"Serves him right, the enabling bastard."

"Dean, c'mon."

"Look, Sammy, whatever your opinions may or may not be of my decisions regarding El Douche back there, it ain't gonna change what's already been done. Besides, we've got bigger things to worry about."

"I guess. Where do you think they'd keep the Doctor to wait for trial?"

"Sammy, I think he's already had a trial."

"What?" Sam stopped walking, so I did too, turning to face him. "What the hell makes you think that? It's only been a few days; there hasn't been time."

"Dude, take a look around." I gestured to our surroundings. "It was probably somewhere around late February or early March when we got here, but it obviously isn't anymore. Judging off the plants and the weather, I'd say it's more like May; I think we were down and out for the count a lot longer than we thought we were."

"Shit." Sam muttered, turning a full 180 to get a look at everything. "That's just beautiful. What're we supposed to do now?"

"Get ahold of the local prison, see if the Doctor's around, and go from there."

XxXxX

"Hello?"

"Hi. Is this the Colorado State Penitentiary?"

"Yes."

"Awesome. You wouldn't happen to have an inmate by the name of Winchester?"

"Several."

"One that's in for child abuse?"

"Yes. Tall skinny guy, brown hair?"

"That's the one. My brother and I would like to put in a request to come visit him."

"Is this supposed to be a joke?"

"Uh… no."

"In that case, I'm sorry, but we're not allowing visitations at this time."

"What? Why?"

"Because of Coronavirus, kid, use your brain."

"I'm sorry, 'cause of what now?"

"What, are you living under a rock? Dangerous worldwide pandemic that shut down planet Earth? Social distancing? Quarantine? Any of that ringing any bells?"

"Uh… right, yeah, sure. Sorry to bother you."

I hung up the payphone and headed back over to the park bench I'd left Sammy on, reading some magazine he'd found in a trash can.

"Any luck?" he asked as I sat down next to him.

"Not exactly. Apparently Earth is closed today."

"I'm actually not all that surprised." Sam put his magazine in my lap. "Here, read this."

"'2020 is Out to Get Us'?"

"Just read it."

"Okay, okay." I picked up the magazine to get a better look and started reading. "'_At this point, it seems like 2020 is out to get us'_. Well, that's chipper. '_In the last few months, we have seen an unprecedented number of catastrophic events. So far, we've narrowly avoided World War 3, we've had Kobe Bryant's death in a helicopter crash -' _Do you have any idea who that is?"

Sam shook his head. "No clue."

"Huh. Okay, then. '_\- Australia burning to the ground -' _Yikes '- _the Covid-19 pandemic, and recently there's been talk of 'Murder Hornets', 2-inch-long hornets that behead bees and can kill a human with single sting'._" I closed the magazine with a low whistle. "Damn, Sammy. Looks like we touched down mid-apocalypse. At least that explains what the prison dude was saying."

"What d'you mean?"

"He said they're not allowing visitations 'cause of 'Coronavirus'. I guess Covid-19 is the official name."

"Well, that's great. How're we supposed to get in the prison now?"

"Don't worry: I'll think of something." I said with a self-satisfied smirk.

**_Author's afterthought: Please review, guys!_**


	18. An Offer He Can't Refuse

_Author's Note: Hey, guys. Guess who's really sorry for a ridiculously long wait? *sheepishly raises hand* I've discovered something very important about myself during this quarantine. When my life loses all structure, I lose all ability to get anything done. That being said, enough excuses from me. Sorry to keep y'all waiting._

**Disclaimer:** **Neither Supernatural or Doctor Who is mine. Also, I don't know if this insanity could actually work, but for the sake of fiction, let's just say it could**

**_Chapter 18: An Offer He Can't Refuse_**

"Sewage pipes? Really?" Sam asked, bitch face out in full force.

I rolled my eyes. "Just to get us on the property. We'll use the air ducts to get into the actual building."

"Don't you think they'll have somebody keeping an eye on easy access points like that?"

"Well, first of all, people in charge of prison security aren't actually that smart. Second, the vents are kinda small. A full-grown man probably wouldn't fit, but we will. And third, the guards are way more concerned with keeping people in than out."

"And how are you planning on getting out, if adults can't get through the ducts? In case you hadn't noticed, Dean, the Doctor's an adult."

"Don't sweat it, Sammy." I said, patting the kid's shoulder. "I've got a few ideas, but I'll have to get a read on the situation before I pick one."

Sam sighed. "Yeah, 'cause that's always encouraging."

XxXxX

"Dude, I don't even wanna know what I'm stepping in." Sam said as we carefully made our way through the sewage pipe, honestly the most disgusted I'd ever heard a human being sound.

I raised an eyebrow, even though, since he was behind me, he couldn't see my face. "If you don't wanna know, then why are you bringing it up?"

"Because it's gross, Dean!"

"Hey, I didn't hear you coming up with any alternative plans, so quit bitching. Besides, we're only gonna be in here for a few minutes, and there's no way you're enough of a pussy that you can't last a few minutes."

Sammy muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite make out about what exactly he thought I could do with my plan, and I couldn't help smirking.

It wasn't long before we reached our exit and clambered out into the blessedly clean air just outside the prison. There was no way in hell I was gonna admit it to Sam, but I was more than a little relieved to get out of there and hopefully never go back in.

"You've got your swiss, right?" I asked as we quickly snuck over to the wall, glancing around for guards and cameras. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any in our general vicinity.

Sam nodded. "'Never go anywhere without it', right?"

"Awesome. Hop up."

It took a little maneuvering, but before long I had Sammy sitting on my shoulders so that he was level with the grate over the entrance to the air ducts, removing the screws in the corners with the phillips head on his pocket knife. He carefully passed it down to me when he was finished, and I lowered it to the ground as quietly as I could. Taking one last look around to make sure nobody was watching us, I boosted the kid in, and once I'd given him enough time to get out of my way, I jumped up and pulled myself inside too. There really wasn't any way to reattach the grate, so we'd just have to hope nobody noticed it.

"Alright, let's go."

It was slow going. Ventilation ducts, as everyone knows, are ridiculously loud, so we crept along as quietly as we could and prayed the small noises we were making weren't audible. There were more grates at seemingly random intervals, giving us glimpses into rooms and cells and hallways.

Finally, after a good half hour of searching, we found who we were looking for.

"Pst. Hey, Doc. In here."

"Boys?" The Doctor hopped up from his bed, throwing a cautious look at his sleeping cellmate as he came over to the grate. "Damn, am I glad to see you. Where have you been?"

"We'll explain later. Right now, let's focus on getting you out of here." I said. "I've got an idea, but first, I gotta know: what kinda shit are the guys on this cellblock in for?"

The Doctor laughed. "None of them are murderers, if that's what you mean. Why?"

"I'm gonna convince the guard to open all the cells: it'll be a lot easier to get out of here if there's a bunch of us at once."

"How're you going to get him to do that?" Sam asked, frowning.

I smirked. "I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse."

"The Godfather, Dean? Really?"

"Oh, come on, it's a great -" I cut myself off, hit with a sudden thought. "You know what? The Godfather is one movie I don't have to defend. Not to you, not to anyone. It won Academy Awards for Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, Marlon Brando won Best Actor for his performance, and it's widely recognized as one of the greatest films of all time. It's a cinematic masterpiece - "

"Okay, okay, I get it."

XxXxX

I cocked my gun with an audible click. "Put your hands in the air, stand up, and turn around. Slowly."

"Okay." Very cautiously, the guy sitting in front of the monitor and panel of buttons did as he was told, frowning slightly when he caught sight of us.

"But you're kids." he said blankly.

I rolled my eyes. "Brilliant deduction, Watson."

"How did you even get in here? And where did you get a gun?"

"None of your damn business. Now, just do as I say, and nobody gets hurt."

"Kid, I dunno what it is they've got on you, but you don't have to -"

"Shut up." I took a step toward him, my gun trained on his face. "I want you to open all the cells on Block D, and every other door between there and the exit."

The guy paled. "You've gotta be kidding me. At the very least, I'd lose my job if I did that -"

"Yeah, well, you'll lose your life if you don't, so…" I trailed off with a very pointed look at my gun, then shrugged. "Up to you."

"Okay, okay. Just calm down."

"And if you even think about letting anyone know we're here, I'm putting a bullet right between your eyes."'

The guy nodded nervously and started pushing buttons. Before long, all the doors we needed were open and inmates were flooding the hallway.

"Okay, Sammy, lock him up."

Sam nodded, pulling a couple sets of handcuffs out of his pocket.

I smiled at the guard and gestured to a chair with my gun. "Take a seat."

"C'mon, kids, is this really necessary -"

"Now."

Shaking slightly, the guy sat down, and Sam used one set of cuffs on his ankles and the other to secure his arms behind him.

"Well, it's been great doing business with you, but I really do have other things to do with my life and my time, so, if you'll excuse us, we'll be on our way. I'm sure someone will come along and let you out eventually." With a last sarcastic salute and a smile, I led Sam out the door.

I grabbed the kid's wrist tightly the second we got into the hallway: it was still full of inmates, and this really wasn't the ideal time to get separated.

"Let's get outta here." Sam said.

I nodded my agreement and we began weaving our way through the crowd, trying to find the Doctor. Some of the inmates gave us rather annoyed looks as we pushed past them, but for the most part, they didn't really pay us much attention.

We'd just barely made it out the front door when the alarms started going off, deafening and shrill. Starting to feel a little desperate now, I tried to get through faster, dragging Sammy along behind me. This was so not the place to get caught.

"Sam! Dean!"

Another hand grabbed my unoccupied one, and I looked up to see the Doctor. We exchanged an understanding nod and took off towards the front gate with the rest of the inmates.

Only about half of the crowd made it through before it shut with a clang, but there were enough people to make it difficult for the cops to follow each one as we scattered in all directions.

I glanced back at the prison one more time with a self-satisfied smirk.

Suckers.

XxXxX

Before long, we were back in the Tardis and safely floating in some remote corner of space, far, far away from anyone who might want to bother us. Sam and I were just chilling on the floor in the control room where the Doctor had left us with strict orders not to mess with anything while he went to change out of his prison clothes. Something about how we could accidentally send us flying into the heart of a supernova or something, I dunno.

"Well, that was insane." Sam said, looking more than a little exhausted.

I nodded. "You can say that again."

We were silent for a second, just enjoying the peace and the satisfaction of a job well done. I'd always wanted to pull a prison break, and now I could check it off the bucket list.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam said quietly. "You wouldn't have actually shot that guy, would you?"

"Of course not. Stuff like that, it's like poker. Sure, you're bluffing, but you can't let them know that."

"Fair." Sam agreed.

"So, where do you think we oughta go now?" I asked, changing the subject.

Sam shrugged with a yawn. "To sleep?"

"I second that motion." the Doctor said, walking into the room. "Everything's been an absolute mess for quite awhile, and there's plenty of time to catch up once we can all see straight again."

Sam laughed slightly as we got to our feet. "Sounds good to me."

"You sure you're all good, Doc?" I double checked. "Hanging out in the slammer can't have been a picnic."

The Doctor smiled tiredly. "Yes, Dean, I'm sure; don't waste your time worrying. We'll talk in the morning."

**Author's****Afterthought:** Reviews would be greatly appreciated: I love to hear your guys's thoughts! Also, does anybody have any preferences for where the Doctor takes the boys next?


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